A Dangerous Invitation
The message haunted Doris for days.
"You shouldn't have opened that drawer."
She didn't tell anyone.
Not Clara.
Not her friends.
Not even Dante.
But he knew something was wrong.
He watched her more closely now.
Like he was afraid she'd disappear.
And maybe she should have.
But then came the invitation.
A thick envelope slipped under her studio desk.
No return address.
Inside:
"Midnight. The Velvet Note. Come alone. Secrets await."
She stared at it for a long time.
Then showed it to Dante.
He read it once.
Twice.
His jaw tightened.
"No," he said flatly.
"I'm going."
"You don't know who sent this."
"I think I do."
He looked at her sharply.
Victor Hale.
Lila's former manager.
The man Dante believed had something to do with her death.
If he wanted to talk…
She needed to hear what he had to say.
Even if it was a trap.
---
The Masked Event
That night, Soho pulsed with neon and secrets.
Doris arrived at The Velvet Note just before midnight.
The bar had been transformed.
Candles flickered on every table.
Black masks lined a velvet-covered counter.
Guests in dark suits and elegant gowns drifted through the space like shadows.
It wasn't a normal night.
It was a masquerade.
A private event.
And somehow, she was invited.
Dante followed discreetly from across the street, watching her enter.
She spotted him in the reflection of a wine bottle.
He wouldn't let her go alone.
Good.
Because she had a feeling she might need him.
A waiter approached with a tray of champagne flutes.
She took one.
Sipped slowly.
Then a voice behind her.
Smooth.
Cold.
"Miss Date."
She turned.
A tall man in a black tuxedo and silver mask stood before her.
Victor Hale.
She recognized him from old photos.
"Mr. Hale."
He smiled thinly. "I hoped you'd come."
"What do you want?"
"To warn you."
She stiffened.
"About what?"
He gestured toward a quiet corner of the room.
"Let's dance."
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
As they moved onto the floor, his grip on her waist was firm.
Too firm.
"You're digging into things you shouldn't," he murmured.
"I'm only looking for the truth."
"There is no truth," he said smoothly. "Only stories. And some are better left untold."
Her pulse quickened.
"If you had nothing to hide, you wouldn't be threatening me."
He chuckled. "Threaten? Darling, I'm saving you."
"From what?"
"From him."
She glanced toward the entrance.
Dante stood near the bar, watching them carefully.
"He's not the hero in this story," Victor whispered. "He's the villain."
She pulled away slightly.
"Why would you say that?"
"Because he killed Lila."
She froze.
"That's a lie."
"Is it?" His voice dropped lower. "Or did he push her too far? Make her feel like she couldn't live without him?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Ask him," Victor said softly. "Ask him what really happened the night she died."
Then he released her.
And disappeared into the crowd.
---
The Attack
Doris stumbled outside into the cold air.
Rain misted the pavement.
She needed answers.
Now.
She found Dante waiting near the alley beside the club.
His eyes searched hers.
"What did he say?"
She swallowed hard. "He said you killed her."
Dante went still.
Then cursed under his breath.
"I didn't," he said quickly. "I swear to God, Doris, I didn't kill her."
She wanted to believe him.
God help her, she did.
But doubt crept in.
Just enough to make her hesitate.
Footsteps echoed behind them.
Fast.
Heavy.
Before she could react—
Something slammed into her side.
She gasped as she was shoved against the wall.
A hand clamped over her mouth.
A knife glinted in the rain.
Dante lunged.
The attacker swung.
Blade met flesh.
Dante grunted.
Blood bloomed across his arm.
Doris kicked back hard.
The grip loosened.
Dante grabbed the attacker, slamming him against the wall.
Streetlights flickered.
The masked figure looked up.
It was one of Victor's men.
Dante punched him hard.
Once.
Twice.
The man slumped unconscious.
Doris clutched her side, breathing heavily.
Dante turned to her.
"You okay?"
She nodded, trembling.
He pulled her close.
"I won't let anything happen to you."
She buried her face in his chest.
And whispered, "Tell me the truth."
---
Reflections
They sat together in the rain, sheltered beneath a small awning.
Dante cleaned the cut on his arm with a shaking hand.
Doris watched him, heart pounding.
"Tell me," she said again.
He exhaled.
"I didn't kill her," he said quietly. "But I wasn't innocent either."
She waited.
He continued.
"She called me that night. Said she needed me. I went to her apartment. We argued. She was high. Angry. She accused me of leaving her."
He looked at her.
"I told her I couldn't keep saving her."
Doris swallowed.
"And then?"
"I left."
Her breath caught.
He closed his eyes.
"The next morning… I got a call. She was gone."
Tears welled in his eyes.
"I should've stayed."
Doris reached for his hand.
"I believe you."
He looked at her.
"But I don't know if I can trust myself around you."
She gave him a small, sad smile.
"Then let me be the one who stays."
He kissed her forehead.
And held her tighter.
For the first time in years…
He didn't run.