Rage burns through my chest, white-hot and consuming.
"Give me that." I cross the room in two strides, snatch the folder from her hands.
"D-Dante, don't—" Bianca starts.
I tear it. The photos, the lists, the receipts—all of it. I rip them into pieces and let them fall like confetti on Caterina's expensive shoes.
"I don't need your proof," I tell her. "I don't need your evidence or your threats or your uncle's testimony. Whatever Bianca did before she met me is her business. Not yours."
"How noble." Caterina's voice drips venom. "But it won't matter. I have copies. Digital backups. Testimonials from a dozen men who can verify everything. You can tear up paper all you want—the truth is already out there."
"Then why are we here?" I step closer to her. "If you're so confident, why the private meeting? Why not just release everything?"
"Because I'm giving you a choice." She smooths her dress, composed despite my proximity. "End this farce with her. Publicly. At this gala. Announce that you've realized your mistake. And I'll keep quiet."
"For how long?"
"For as long as you behave." Her smile returns. "Marry me. Unite our families like your father wants. And your little teacher's past stays buried."
I laugh. Actually laugh, the sound bitter in the quiet room. "You think I'd choose you over her? After this?"
"I think you'll choose your career. Your reputation. Your position with Matteo." She tilts her head. "Because if this gets out, you're done. Every deal you've made, every connection you have—they'll all question your judgment. Wonder what other mistakes you've made. You'll be a liability."
"She's right, Dante." My father sets down his glass. "This will destroy you. Destroy us. We're already recovering from my scandal. We can't afford another one."
I turn to look at him. Really look at him. And I see it—the fear underneath the anger. The desperation of a man clinging to relevance.
"You knew," I say slowly. "You knew about this before tonight. That's why you were asking questions. Why you said something seemed off."
"I had suspicions." He doesn't deny it. "Caterina confirmed them."
"And you're using it to control me."
"I'm using it to save you from yourself!" His voice rises. "She's a whore, Dante! A prostitute! And you're willing to throw away everything for her?"
The word hits me over and over because, the question really is, am I willing to throw everything away for Bianca? Or is it because of what everything going on does to Bianca?
She flinches. Actually flinches, like he's struck her.
"Don't call her that." I say before I can stop myself, my voice drops to something dangerous.
I look at Caterina. At my father. At the pieces of evidence scattered on the floor.
Then I turn to Bianca.
She's standing perfectly still, her face pale, hands clasped in front of her. Looking at nothing. Like she's disappeared inside herself to escape this moment.
"We're leaving," I say.
"Dante—" my father starts.
"I said we're leaving." I take Bianca's arm, guide her toward the door. "And if either of you come near her again, if you somuch as mention her name, I will end you both. Professionally. Financially. Any way I can. Are we clear?"
Silence.
"I'll take that as a yes."
I unlock the door, pull Bianca out into the hallway. She moves like a puppet, mechanical and empty. It’s the first time I have seen her like this and I don’t like it.
