Chapter 7 - The Final Chess Piece
With Victor secured in the estate's reinforced lower holding cells, Dante turned his attention to the final loose end. Victoria Hale was summoned to the grand salon under the pretext of a morning review before their scheduled wedding fittings.
She entered wearing a pristine white silk dress, radiating delicate elegance, completely unaware that her accomplice had already fallen. She offered a warm, radiant smile, walking toward Dante with outstretched hands.
“Dante, darling. You look exhausted. Did you sleep at all?” Victoria purred, stepping close enough to trace her fingers along his lapel.
Dante caught her wrist. His grip was ironclad, crushing enough to make her gasp in sudden pain.
“Where were you three nights ago, Victoria?” he asked, his voice a low, terrifying rumble.
Her eyes darted sideways toward the empty doorway, her breathing hitching. “I... I told you. I was in my chambers, preparing for your return. What is this?”
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Dante pulled a small, bloodstained silver locket from his pocket—a trinket Mia had worn every day, which had slipped into the crack of the cellar floor during the struggle. He dropped it into Victoria's trembling palm.
The mask shattered completely. Realizing that the dark secret buried beneath the stone had broken free into the light, Victoria’s composure dissolved into frantic, desperate denials, followed quickly by vicious threats of retaliation from powerful allies outside the estate. But her words echoed into an absolute vacuum. Dante gave a single nod to the guards waiting in the shadows.
