He Defended My Killer,Not Knowing I Was His Wife
Chapter 3
The next day.
Dante Valente woke up on the sofa.
Last night, he sat alone in the living room of the brownstone house.
The light was on.
He'd only drunk half his whiskey.
The documents on the table were untouched.
He did nothing, only glancing at the clock on the wall every now and then.
As if waiting for someone.
But that person never returned.
He didn't fall asleep on the sofa until the early hours of the morning.
When he got up, his movements hesitated for a moment.
His gaze swept over the entryway.
The slippers were there, neatly arranged.
Immaculate.
As if no one had ever worn them.
Dante's face instantly darkened.
He stood there for a few seconds.
Then he took out his phone.
For the first time.
He messaged me.
[Adriana, if you don't want to come back, then never come back.] His tone was cold and hard, without a trace of hesitation.
I stood beside him, looking at the message, and couldn't help but laugh.
A silent laugh.
"Don't worry."
"I'll never come back."
Dante didn't look at his phone again.
He washed up and changed.
A black suit, tie impeccably tailored.
Perfect as always.
As if last night's wait had never happened.
The car started.
Heading towards the city center.
Heading towards his world.
—The headquarters of the Valente-Falcone Alliance.
On the surface, it was a law firm, an arbitration body, a business consulting firm.
In reality, it was the central nervous system of two major families in Avar.
Behind every contract was a gun barrel.
Every arbitration was a matter of life and death.
And Dante was one of the rule-makers here.
He had just sat down.
The door was knocked.
Then he pushed the door open.
Seraphine Morano walked in.
She was pale, her eyes red-rimmed.
She carried a stack of documents.
Like a woman driven to desperation.
“Dante…only you can help me.”
Her voice trembled.
Dante almost immediately stood up and helped her to a chair.
The movement was as natural as instinct.
“Speak.”
He took the documents.
He opened them.
His gaze swept over them quickly.
Seraphine spoke softly.
“It was Nico.”
“Last night…he hit someone in the grey zone inside and outside Baro.”
She paused.
As if suppressing fear.
“He said it wasn’t intentional.”
“It was raining, visibility was poor, the road was slippery…”
Dante’s fingers stopped on the pages.
His voice turned somber.
“Is the person dead?”
Seraphine nodded.
The air instantly chilled.
Dante continued, his tone now serious, as if handling a case.
“Identity.”
“Has it been confirmed?”
“Have the family been contacted?”
Seraphina shook her head.
Her hand unconsciously went to her throat.
That detail flashed through her mind.
“No.”
“Nico said…the person was thrown into the air, crashing directly into the windshield.”
“The face is disfigured.”
“There’s nothing to confirm the identity.”
“And no one has claimed the body.”
She spoke these words softly.
As if recounting an accident unrelated to herself.
Dante remained silent.
The silver lighter in his hand was held between his fingers.
He turned it gently.
Click.
Click.
The flame flickered, then went out.
“Speed.”
“Surveillance footage.”
“Witnesses.”
His questions were precise and calm. Like a machine.
“Within eighty miles.”
“The incident occurred in the gray zone; there are no surveillance cameras.”
“It's raining; nobody's around.”
Seraphina lowered her head.
“Dante…you'll help him, won't you?”
Dante didn't answer immediately.
He looked at the documents.
His gaze grew increasingly intense.
“Did Nico flee?”
“Did he conceal the speed?”
Seraphina suddenly looked up.
Her eyes reddened.
“Are you doubting me?”
Her voice trembled.
“He contacted the hospital immediately.”
“After confirming the death, he went to the military police to turn himself in.”
“He's still inside.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“Dante, you're all I have left.”
These words.
completely shattered him.
Dante immediately reached out and pulled her into his arms.
“I’m not doubting you.”
“I’m helping you.”
“I need all the details to reduce his sentence at the committee.”
His tone was low, yet carried an undeniable control.
“I’ll handle this.”
Seraphina buried her face in his chest, crying even harder.
“You must save him…”
“I can’t lose any more family…”
Dante held her tightly.
His voice was solemn.
“I will protect him.”
One sentence.
That was the verdict.
In this city, if he said he could live, he wouldn’t die.
I stood beside them.
Suddenly, I felt ridiculous.
So my life.
Worth only a defense.
After a while.
Seraphina seemed to suddenly remember something.
She looked up.
Her voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
“There’s one more thing…”
Dante looked at her.
“Speak.”
She paused.
Then she spoke softly.
“That person…was pregnant.”
The air.
froze instantly.
The lighter stopped.
The flame went out.
Dante's fingers stiffened for a moment.
His pupils contracted sharply.
“The location.”
His voice was terrifyingly low.
Seraphina, as if startled, whispered.
“Outside Barone…the old road.”
At that moment.
Something exploded in Dante's mind.
That road.
Last night.
The rain.
The woman he abandoned.
Eight months pregnant.
All the clues overlapped in an instant.
He froze completely.
Like being shot.
I stood before him.
For the first time, I saw him lose control.
Just then—
The office door was flung open.
Cristiano Falcone burst in.
His face was grim.
His aura was sharp.
“Dante.”
“Where is Adriana?”
“She hasn’t replied to my messages all day.”
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