Secrets
ARIANA’S POV
My chair scraped the floor as I shot to my feet.
“What happened with my father, Dante?” My voice cracked, louder than I intended, but I didn’t care. “What the hell are you trying to say that’s making you stammer like that?”
Dante turned to me slowly, his jaw tight, fingers flexing like they were itching to punch something. Or maybe brace for impact.
“It was an accident,” he finally said, voice low and gritted. “He didn’t mean for it to happen.”
My blood iced. “Is my father alive?”
He didn’t answer.
“Dante.”
Still nothing. He looked everywhere but at me—the floor, the wall, his reflection in the glass.
“Dante, answer me!”
Finally, he shook his head. “No. He’s dead.”
The breath whooshed out of my lungs like I’d been sucker punched. “Then what is this? Why are we dancing around something if he’s already gone?”
He exhaled hard, ran a hand over his face, and sat back down, eyes flicking to mine like he was measuring my emotional temperature. “Because there are things you don’t know, Ariana. Things your father never told you. Things he asked me to bury with him.”
“Spit it out.”
He hesitated again. Damn him. Then finally—finally—he spoke.
“Many years ago, your father went on a business trip to Paris. It was supposed to be two days. Meetings, dinners, back home. Simple.”
I folded my arms, heart pounding. “But?”
“But… something happened. He got drunk one night. Wasted. Alone. You know how your dad could get when he let his guard down.”
I did. I hated that I did.
Dante looked away for a second, then back at me, slowly, cautiously. “He met a woman. Beautiful. Charming. Manipulative as hell. He didn’t know it at the time. She played the long game.”
“He slept with her.” I whispered.
Dante nodded, slow and grim. “Yeah. Woke up the next morning confused, sick with guilt. He panicked. Left the hotel without saying a word. Told me he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done. Not because of her—he didn’t care about her. Because of your mother. He loved her.”
“So then what?” I asked, voice brittle.
He took another long breath. “What your father didn’t know was that the woman got pregnant. Or maybe she planned it. She knew who he was, Ariana. She knew exactly what she was doing.”
I stared at him, trying to feel something but feeling nothing at all.
“He paid her off, didn’t he?” I asked quietly.
“At first, no. He didn’t even know the kid existed. She didn’t tell him right away. But when she did? He panicked again. He didn’t want anything to threaten his family—his real family. You. Your mom. The life he built.”
I swallowed, throat dry. “So… he gave her money?”
“He gave her everything she asked for. Set her up in Italy. Private schooling for the boy. Medical, housing, bank accounts. All through intermediaries. He never met the child. Never wanted to. But guilt… guilt eats people alive.”
He paused, eyes heavy on mine.
“I think, as a gesture of… I don’t know, penance, he gave the boy something. A token. The second ring.”
I flinched. “No. He wouldn’t.”
“He did. I didn’t understand it either. But he couldn’t look the kid in the face, so he sent the ring instead. His way of saying, ‘You exist. But stay away.’”
I stood there in stunned silence, the air in the room turning sharp and cold.
“So if I saw that ring,” I whispered, “that means… that boy is here.”
Dante nodded. “Your stepbrother. He’s come back.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
The room spun, just slightly. My knees wobbled. I pressed my hands against the table to steady myself.
“You’re telling me,” I said slowly, voice hollow, “that my father has a son with another woman. A son he never spoke of. And now he’s here. Was in my room. Wearing that ring.”
Dante’s expression was carved from stone. “Yes.”
I stared at him. Waiting for a smirk. A crack in his serious face. Anything to tell me this was a joke. A twisted test.
Nothing.
The shock in my body was indescribable. Numbness. Rage. Betrayal. Like my insides had been scooped out and replaced with ice.
“Do you think he’s back to cause trouble?”
Dante leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Knowing the kind of woman his mother is? I’d bet everything on it. They never wanted to stay hidden. They wanted leverage. Power. Access.”
“And now they think it’s time to collect.”
He nodded.
My mind reeled. The fact that someone had broken into my room was terrifying enough. But knowing that person might be the secret son of the man I loved more than anyone?
It made my skin crawl.
I tried to catch my breath, but the room was closing in. The walls seemed too tight. The lights too dim.
I sank back into the chair, burying my face in my hands.
“How did he get in?” I muttered. “How did he get past everything?”
Dante didn’t answer.
That alone said enough.
I looked up again, barely keeping my voice steady. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
He didn’t flinch. “Because your father made sure none of it would ever reach you. He thought the money, the distance—it would be enough. That they’d stay quiet.”
“But he was wrong.”
“He was wrong.”
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, heart thundering in my ears.
“Can my life get any more complicated?” I asked the air.
Dante didn’t answer that either.
I stood up. My hands trembled, but I curled them into fists, willing the shakiness to stop. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
I wasn’t. Not remotely. But I nodded.
“I’ll stay in touch,” I said.
He offered his hand.
We shook.
The gesture felt strangely final.
I walked out of that restaurant with my pulse drumming and my thoughts in pieces. The night air hit my face like a slap, but it didn’t clear my head. Nothing could.
My father had a son.
A son I didn’t know existed.
A son who had walked into my room without a sound.
Wearing a symbol that should’ve been buried six feet under.
How could this be?
How could my life unravel so fast?
And more importantly—what the hell was he planning next?
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