Chapter 6: The Road to Lucca
Two weeks later, a modest black sedan drove down the winding gravel roads of Tuscany, kicking up dry summer dust among the olive groves.
There were no security convoys, no armored escorts. Just Dante in a plain linen shirt and trousers, with Chiara asleep in the car seat in the back, holding a small plush rabbit.
The transition had been brutal. The board of directors had filed injunctions, former criminal associates had sent veiled threats, and the media had descended like vultures upon the Dante estate. But Dante had dismantled his life with surgical precision, using top-tier legal teams to sever every tie and handing over mountains of evidence on corrupt officials to international authorities.
He was no longer a king. He was merely a man trying to pay an unpayable debt.
The car came to a stop outside a small, fourteenth-century stone chapel perched on a hill overlooking the valley of Lucca. Cypress trees swayed gently in the warm breeze, casting long shadows across a quiet, overgrown cemetery.
Dante stepped out, opened the rear door, and carefully unbuckled Chiara.
""Are we visiting Mama?"" Chiara asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.
Dante swallowed the lump in his throat. ""Yes, *amore*. We're visiting Mama.""
May you like
He held her hand as they walked through the rusted iron gate, the gravel crunching softly beneath their shoes.
---
