𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I flipped open my diary. My pen hovered over the paper as I began to write, each stroke of the ink a cathartic release of the day's tensions.

The meeting with Kane and Damian still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Their suggestion that I might have to dance for the casino's clientele makes my stomach churn. To think that in my quest for revenge, I could end up as a pawn in the very game that took my husband's life is revolting. The thought of parading myself, scantily clad, in a room full of men is beyond humiliating. It feels like a betrayal to everything I've stood for, and the very idea makes me shiver with disgust. To prostitute myself for the profit of those who are responsible for my husband's death is a fate I refuse to accept.

Then there was the car ride - an opportunity for me to observe the dynamics within Dante's inner circle. Every interaction, every word exchanged between them, was a chance for me to understand their roles and relationships better. I needed to gain their trust, to navigate in this estate with as much ease as possible.

Orion and Davide had been relatively neutral, their attention divided between me and their surroundings. Alexander, however, was a different story. Each encounter with him felt worse than the last. His scrutiny was intense, as if he could see through every pretence I put up.

I sighed, reflecting on the day's final chapter—the interaction with Dante at the mall. His gesture of buying me new clothes had seemed generous, almost too generous. On the surface, it was an act of kindness, but beneath that, I couldn't ignore the possibility that it was just another part of a larger scheme. I kept that thought to myself, not ready to fully embrace it in writing. Instead, I focused on the more personal aspect of our interaction.

There was something in that brief touch, the way Dante held my hand, something genuine. I could feel it—the subtle, yet unmistakable, sign that he was letting down his guard, even if just a little.

For once, I was certain of his emotions. This moment felt different, a rare glimpse of authenticity in a sea of calculated interactions. It was a small victory, but a significant one. Dante was starting to trust me, even if it was just the faintest crack in his armour. I could see it, feel it, and it gave me a glimmer of hope.

My plan was moving forward. With each interaction, I was inching closer to my goal. Trust, however fragile, was being built. Little by little, I was making progress.

I picked up my pen.

Probably one of the most crucial pieces of information I gathered today was the revelation about Dante's family. The fact that he has a brother and a deceased sister struck me as both intriguing and unsettling. I couldn't help but wonder about the circumstances surrounding his sister's death. What could have happened to her? The mystery of it lingered in my mind, adding a layer of complexity to my understanding of Dante.

Then there was his brother—why was he not present? What kind of relationship did they share? Was there a rift between them, or was his absence due to something else entirely? The questions swirled around in my thoughts as I considered the implications of this family dynamic.

I wrote down these reflections, noting the importance of this new insight. The more I learned about Dante's personal history, the clearer the broader picture became.

Closing the book, I laid back on the pillow, replaying the words of Chief Wood and Officer Wallace in my mind. There was an informant, they had said, someone who would reveal themselves to me when the time was right. I stared up at the ceiling, my thoughts racing.

Had I met this informant already?

I considered each of Dante's men in turn: Kane, Damian, Orion, Davide, and Alexander.

Could it be one of them?