Chapter 26: The Truth in the Drive

Elena Vitiello POV

The penthouse doors exploded inward.

Armed agents flooded the room.

Weapons raised.

Commands shouted from every direction.

"Federal agents! Nobody move!"

"Drop your weapons!"

"Hands where we can see them!"

The room descended into complete chaos.

Marco immediately lowered his gun.

"This is going to be a paperwork nightmare," he muttered.

"Now?" Dante snapped.

"I cope with humor."

"Stop coping."

"Trying."

Despite everything, I almost laughed.

Then I remembered Isabella bleeding against the wall.

Reality returned instantly.

"She needs help," I shouted.

One of the agents moved toward her.

"Medical team incoming."

"Good."

"Nobody leaves."

"We're not exactly going anywhere," Marco replied.

The agent ignored him.

Meanwhile, Dante remained beside me.

Close enough to protect.

Far enough not to crowd.

The difference wasn't lost on me.

Months ago, he would've ordered me behind him.

Now he simply stayed nearby.

Giving me space.

Learning.

The realization was dangerous.

I hated how much I noticed it.

"Elena."

I looked down.

The flash drive remained clenched in my hand.

"Don't give that to anyone yet," Isabella whispered.

"Why?"

"Because someone inside the investigation is dirty."

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

"The leak isn't only in the Moretti organization."

"It's inside law enforcement too."

"How do you know?"

"Because I sold information to them."

The confession made several agents immediately tense.

"You what?"

"Not all of them."

"One of them."

"A federal contact."

"A buyer."

The room went silent.

Dante's expression darkened.

"Name."

"I don't know it."

"Impossible."

"I only had a codename."

"Which was?"

"Atlas."

Every agent in the room exchanged looks.

Not good looks.

Worried looks.

"You know that name," Dante said.

One of the senior agents cursed quietly.

"Damn it."

"You know it," Dante repeated.

"We do."

"Who is Atlas?" I asked.

Nobody answered immediately.

That terrified me.

Finally, an older agent stepped forward.

"Atlas is the reason we're here."

"Meaning?"

"We've been chasing him for years."

"We thought he was connected to organized crime."

"Turns out he's connected to everyone."

"Crime families."

"Politicians."

"Banks."

"Federal agencies."

"Anyone with money."

"Anyone with secrets."

The room felt colder.

"He's real?" Marco asked.

"Unfortunately."

"I thought Atlas was a ghost story."

"We wish."

The older agent looked directly at me.

"And if that flash drive contains what she claims..."

"Then it's the most valuable piece of evidence in the country."

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

A month ago my biggest problem was escaping my husband.

Now apparently I was carrying evidence capable of destroying governments.

Life was weird.

"Elena."

I turned toward Dante.

"What?"

"Give me the drive."

"No."

"Elena."

"No."

"I'm trying to help."

"Historically, that's gone badly for me."

Marco made a choking sound that suspiciously resembled laughter.

Dante ignored him.

"Fair."

"Very fair."

"Still no."

For a second, frustration crossed his face.

Then it disappeared.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"You're just accepting that?"

"I'm learning."

"That sounds fake."

"Maybe a little."

Despite everything happening around us, a smile escaped.

Tiny.

Brief.

But real.

Dante saw it.

Of course he did.

His expression softened instantly.

And suddenly the room felt too small again.

Fortunately, Isabella chose that exact moment to ruin everything.

"Oh my God."

"What now?" Marco asked.

"You two are disgusting."

"You're bleeding," I reminded her.

"And you're flirting."

"We are not."

"Sure."

"We're absolutely not."

"Whatever helps you sleep."

The medical team finally arrived.

Doctors.

Paramedics.

Stretchers.

The chaos began settling into organized chaos.

Which was somehow worse.

Because now people had time to think.

Including me.

Including Dante.

Hours later...

The federal building looked exactly how federal buildings always looked.

Grey.

Boring.

Expensive.

I sat inside an interview room staring at the flash drive resting on the table.

Three agents.

Two lawyers.

One exhausted ex-mafia wife.

Quite the party.

"Mrs. Vitiello—"

"Not Moretti?"

"Mrs. Vitiello."

"Better."

"May we see the contents?"

I looked at the drive.

Then at the one-way mirror.

Because I knew who stood behind it.

Dante.

Watching.

Waiting.

Not interfering.

Just there.

As usual lately.

"Yes," I said finally.

"Open it."

The room became silent.

A laptop appeared.

The drive connected.

Folders loaded.

Hundreds of them.

Thousands of files.

Bank records.

Transaction histories.

Videos.

Photos.

Audio recordings.

Enough information to destroy careers.

Organizations.

Entire empires.

"Holy hell," one agent whispered.

"What?"

"She's right."

"About what?"

"Everything."

The room froze.

"Everything?"

"Every account."

"Every transfer."

"Every operation."

"It's all here."

Then another agent opened a folder.

And immediately went pale.

"What?"

"Atlas."

"What about him?"

"We have a face."

Nobody breathed.

Nobody moved.

The image slowly appeared on the screen.

A man.

Mid-fifties.

Expensive suit.

Silver hair.

Sharp eyes.

A face I had never seen before.

A face Dante had.

Because through the glass, I watched every trace of color disappear from his face.

"No," he whispered.

"Boss?" Marco asked.

"No."

"Who is it?"

Dante stared at the screen like he'd seen a ghost.

Then finally spoke.

"That's not Atlas."

"Then who is it?"

Silence.

Long.

Heavy.

Devastating silence.

Then Dante answered.

"That's my uncle."

And suddenly the nightmare became personal.