So while Dante’s family studied my father, I decided that it was time for me to do the same. I was sick and tired of constantly questioning my reality, and desperately hoped to find some answers. I needed closure, and for closure, I needed facts to back up my theory that Papa was being blackmailed.
For the past three days, I’ve buried myself in case files. I’d started with his earliest cases as prosecutor, desperate to pinpoint when exactly my loving father had transformed into someone who could sell his own daughter. There had to have been a tipping point, right? Because no one turns into a monster without cause.
The truth had to be hidden somewhere in this paper trail. It had to be.
One evening, I felt a headache coming on. I’d been sitting in my corner of the library at Dante’s for over seven hours now, yet found nothing at all.
I rubbed my tired eyes and reached for a case file from six years ago. Inside was another conviction—money laundering for the Cortez family. I’d seen my father’s name in the newspaper for that one. He’d been praised for his integrity, his unwavering commitment to justice.
I knew there’d be no point going through that one.
With a groan, I tossed it aside.
Just then, I heard the library door open. When I looked up, I saw Dante standing there with two cups of coffee, the comforting smell reaching my nose.
“I can’t believe you’re still at it.” He shook his head as he walked over and set down a mug in front of me. “I came home and saw the library lights still on. Thought you might need this.” He nodded at the coffee.
“Thanks,” I said, taking a grateful sip. “Any word from Federico?”
“He’s still digging,” Dante replied, grabbing a chair opposite me. His eyes swept over the explosion of papers. “Find anything interesting?”
I sighed. “Nothing of interest. It seems my father is as clean as they get.”
“What have you been researching anyway?” he asked curiously.
“Just his case files since I started,” I explained.
He nodded. “You know,” he picked one up and flipped through it, before chucking it aside, “there might be better ways to go about this.”
“What do you mean?” My eyes flickered over to his with keen interest.
“I mean, corrupt man—”
“Blackmailed men—” I cut him off with a frown.
“Most influential men,” Dante started, putting the argument to rest, “value their reputation because their reputation is power. Your father wouldn’t let his corruption, orless-than-virtuous behaviour, show on in cases for the public record.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked with a frown.
“I’m saying let me help.”
“We?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Yes, we,” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone, especially since you haven’t stepped out of here for what? Four days now? Unless it’s to sleep. But you haven’t even been doing that.”
My throat tightened. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. He’d been doing this a lot lately—small gestures that kept catching me off guard. Bringing me coffee. Making sure I ate. And now, diving into this mess with me without being asked.
“Okay.” My voice sounded childlike, small. Honestly? I needed his help, any help, even though I hadn’t said. “Where should we start?”
“The case files could lead to something, sure,” he nodded, but then got a faraway look. “But it’s the paper trails… “ He got a faraway look, then snapped back to attention. “His public financial records, you got those?”
“Thank you,” My voice cracked with relief, and I moved to find the records he wanted before sliding half the stack toward him. “What are we to look for?”
“We’re looking for anything unusual,” he said. “Large deposits close to verdict dates or right after. Transfers to and from unknown banks or vague companies.”
“Okay.” I nodded and started to make a list of verdict dates to later cross-check with the financials. We worked in silence for a while, but the whole time, I kept stealing glances at him.
He never looked up from the papers in front of him. His focus remained laser-sharp, something I came to admire.
