Instead, he stepped back.
"Enjoy your evening."
He walked away.
His men followed.
Dante waited until they disappeared behind the ballroom doors.
Then he looked at Elena.
"Do you have somewhere safe to go?"
"I have an apartment."
"That's not what I asked."
Her expression hardened.
"I don't need a stranger deciding what is safe for me."
Dante nodded.
"Fair enough."
He reached into his jacket and removed a business card.
"Keep this. If anyone approaches you about your mother, call me."
Elena looked at the card.
DANTE VITALE.
No company name.
No telephone extension.
Just a number.
"Why would I call you?"
"Because Alessandro Moretti has spent twenty years searching for something your mother took."
Dante paused.
"And tonight, he found her daughter."
***
Elena didn't call him.
Not that night.
She went home at midnight, removed her shoes, and sat on the edge of her bed.
Her apartment was small.
A kitchen, a bedroom, and a narrow living room with a window overlooking the neighboring building.
Her younger brother, Matteo, was asleep on the sofa.
He was nineteen, although illness had made him look younger.
A prescription bottle sat on the coffee table beside a half-empty glass of water.
Elena quietly covered him with a blanket.
Then she went to her bedroom.
She removed the necklace.
For the first time in years, she examined it carefully.
The silver star was heavier than it appeared.
She turned it over.
There was a tiny inscription on the back.
Three letters.
I.R.V.
She had never noticed them before.
Her mother had once told her that the necklace was a promise.
Nothing more.
Elena sat on the floor and opened the small wooden box where she kept her mother's belongings.
Inside were photographs, a hospital identification card, and a faded envelope.
She had looked through them many times.
But that night, she noticed something strange.
The photograph of her mother standing beside a hospital window had been cut along one edge.
Someone had removed another person from the picture.
On the back, in faded handwriting, were four words.
WHEN THE STAR RETURNS.
Elena stared at them.
Then her telephone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
"Hello?"
A man's voice spoke.
"Miss Rossi?"
"Who is this?"
"You need to leave your apartment."
Her blood ran cold.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who knows that two men are already looking for you."
Elena stood.
"Where is my brother?"
"Listen carefully. Do not turn on the lights. Do not open the door."
A noise came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Then the sound of something metallic touching the lock.
Elena whispered.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
"Dante Vitale."
The telephone disconnected.
***
Dante was sitting in the back of a black Mercedes when he received the information.
Two men had been seen entering Elena's building.
Neither belonged to the Vitale family.
Neither belonged to the police.
His driver glanced at him through the mirror.
"Should we wait for the others?"
"No."
"Boss—"
"Drive."
The Mercedes accelerated through the wet streets.
Dante called his security chief.
"Get to the Rossi apartment. Two men are inside the building."
"Understood."
"And bring a doctor."
"Is someone injured?"
"Not yet."
Dante ended the call.
He looked through the window.
The city passed in blurred reflections of neon and rain.
He had spent years convincing himself that the story of Isabella Rossi was irrelevant.
His father had died without explaining it.
His uncle refused to discuss it.
And the Moretti family had threatened anyone who mentioned her name.
Now the past had returned wearing a white blouse and a silver necklace.
Dante knew one thing.
Alessandro wouldn't stop.
Not until he had the document.
Or the person who knew where it was hidden.
***
Elena heard the first knock.
Then another.
"Police."
She didn't move.
The voice sounded wrong.
Too impatient.
"Miss Rossi, open the door."
Matteo appeared behind her.
His hair was disheveled, and he looked confused.
"What's happening?"
"Go to the bedroom."
"Elena—"
"Now."
He obeyed.
She picked up her phone.
No signal.
The knock came again.
Then the handle moved.
Elena stepped backward.
A voice spoke from the other side.
"We know you're inside."
She looked toward the kitchen.
There was a narrow service door leading to the rear staircase.
She grabbed Matteo's jacket.
"Come with me."
They had barely reached the kitchen when the apartment door opened.
Two men entered.
"Miss Rossi!"
Elena pushed Matteo toward the rear exit.
"Go downstairs. Keep moving."
"What about you?"
"I'll follow."
But she didn't.
One of the men saw her.
He reached for her arm.
Elena grabbed a glass from the counter and struck his wrist.
The glass shattered.
He cursed.
The second man moved toward her.
Then someone hit him from behind.
The man collapsed against the kitchen table.
Dante stood in the doorway.
His white dinner jacket was gone.
He wore a black shirt, and his expression was colder than it had been at the gala.
"Are you hurt?"