Chapter 320: Give Her Back To Her Father. That’s All I’m Asking

Dimitri listened, understanding what his father was actually saying beneath the words. Antonio wasn’t defending Isabella. He was managing consequences.

"Just return her to him," Antonio continued. "Like you promised. Like you said you would."

Antonio paused. Took a breath. The kind of breath a man takes when he’s about to say something difficult.

"In whatever broken form she is," Antonio finished. "But just give her back to her father. That’s all I’m asking."

Dimitri understood the concession embedded in those words. His father wasn’t asking for Isabella to be spared. He was asking for her to be returned damaged but alive. A living reminder. A walking consequence.

It was a pragmatic compromise from a pragmatic man.

"I plan on doing that," Dimitri said flatly. "That was always the plan."

"Good," Antonio said, and there was something almost like relief in his voice. "Then we understand each other."

"We do," Dimitri confirmed.

"Now," Antonio continued, shifting into operational mode. "Tell me about Dante. Tell me what he wants."

Dimitri laid it out. The five demands. The 72-hour deadline. The escalating threats.

Antonio listened without interrupting. When Dimitri finished, his father was silent for a long moment.

"He’s stupid," Antonio said finally. "Asking you to surrender your empire. Asking you to publicly acknowledge defeat. He’s giving you no choice but to hunt him."

"That’s what I’ve already concluded," Dimitri said.

"And the coordinates from the message?" Antonio asked.

"Marco is working on it. We should have a location within hours."

"Good," Antonio said. "When you have the location, you’ll need a team that specializes in extraction from underground facilities. I have people in Rome who’ve done this before. Former military. Extremely skilled. I can have them in New York within twelve hours."

It was an offer. Not a question. Not a request for permission. Just a statement of what his father could provide.

Dimitri considered refusing out of principle. Considered doing this alone, without his father’s resources or interference.

But that would be letting pride override strategy.

"Send them," Dimitri said coldly. "But they operate under my command. Not yours."

"Of course," Antonio said. "They’ll be your men while they’re in New York. I’ll brief them before they leave Rome."

"Anything else?" Dimitri asked, wanting to end the conversation.

"Yes," Antonio said, and his voice shifted slightly. "This American woman. Eve. You care about her significantly despite my disapproval"

It wasn’t a question. Antonio was stating a fact.

"Yes," Dimitri said, seeing no point in denying it.

"More than your empire," Antonio continued. "More than your territory. You chose her over Isabella. Over the Russo alliance. Over the plan I had for your future."

"I did," Dimitri confirmed.

There was another pause.

"She must be extraordinary," Antonio said finally. His voice carried something that might have been curiosity. Might have been something close to understanding.

"She is," Dimitri said. "In ways you wouldn’t comprehend, Father."

"Perhaps," Antonio said. "But understand this, Dimitri. The moment you chose her over the alliance with Lorenzo, you made yourself vulnerable in ways you don’t fully grasp. You gave someone leverage over you. And in our world, leverage is a weapon."

"I’m aware," Dimitri said flatly.

"Are you?" Antonio asked, and his tone suggested he genuinely wasn’t sure. "Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve just had that vulnerability confirmed. Dante took her. He’s using her. He’s trying to break you in ways that tactical strikes never could."

Dimitri felt something dark rise in his chest. Not because his father was wrong. But because he was right.

"I know what I’ve done," Dimitri said coldly. "And I know what it’s cost me. But I also know what I’m going to do about it. And that’s all that matters."

"Does it?" Antonio asked. "Or will you spend the rest of your life having to manage the consequences of loving someone more than your own survival?"

"Is there a point to this conversation, Father?" Dimitri asked, his patience wearing thin.

"The point is simple," Antonio said. "Don’t let what happened to your mother happen to this woman. Don’t let your need to protect her become the thing that destroys you both."

The words hung in the air like a curse.

Your mother.

Claire.

The name that neither of them ever spoke directly but that lived in every silence between them.

"My mother’s death was your responsibility," Dimitri said, his voice absolutely cold. "Her blood is on your hands, Father. Not mine. So I suggest you don’t lecture me about protecting the people I love."

There was a very long silence.

When Antonio spoke again, his voice was quiet.

"You’re right," he said simply. "You’re absolutely right. And that’s exactly why I’m helping you now. That’s exactly why I’m sending my best people to New York, not because i approve your relationship with this American woman, but because I understand the weight of losing someone you failed to protect."

It was the closest Antonio had come in years to acknowledging what he’d done. What he’d allowed to happen to Claire.

It wasn’t an apology. Antonio Valentino didn’t apologize.

But it was acknowledgment.

And in the complex, difficult relationship between a father and a son separated by the death of a woman they both loved in different ways, acknowledgment was something.

"The team will be in New York by dawn," Antonio said, shifting back to operational mode. "They’ll contact Marco with their location. You can brief them on the extraction parameters."

"Understood," Dimitri said.

The line went dead.

***

4:23 AM

Marco had been working for fourteen hours straight.

His fingers moved across the keyboard with the kind of mechanical precision that came from complete exhaustion and absolute focus. Empty energy drink cans were piled on the desk beside him. The screen glow painted his face in shades of blue and white.

Dimitri stood behind him, watching the work in progress.

"Talk me through it," Dimitri commanded. His own exhaustion was well-hidden behind the cold calculation of a man operating on adrenaline and purpose.