Page 13 of Ivory Crown

I set the bowl aside, its contents half-finished, my appetite waning under the weight of anticipation. Escape was within reach, a dangerous game where the stakes were my life. But wasn’t that what I’d been doing all along? Playing games with fate?

“Time to play smarter, not harder.”

I glanced back at the remnants of my meal, a small smile tugging at my lips. I could do this. I had to.

It was time to turn the tables, and I’d start by learning the rules Dante played by—even if I had to rewrite them myself.

I grabbed the noodles and made sure to clean after myself. I didn’t want Dante to know I had ordered food, that I had a lifeline to the outside world.

I quickly discarded the paper bag and foam container in the bottom of a small trash can, burying them under other, less consequential waste. With a brief nod, I was satisfied it wouldn’t draw attention. The last thing I needed was Dante noticing an anomaly and becoming suspicious.

Then I slipped back into the home office, my temporary lab. The room was as cold and clinical as ever, filled with top-of-the-line equipment that made it look more like a futuristic movie set than an actual working space. It was also where I spent most of my time—effects of Dante’s restrictive protectiveness that bordered on obsession.

I made sure to wipe my internet history after every browsing session, even going so far as to install software that would do it automatically. I didn’t know how tech-savvy Dante was, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Every trace of my contact with the outside world had to be erased, every possible link severed.

Easing back into the plush office chair, I glanced at the myriad of test tubes and beakers littering the desk. Each one bore silent testament to the hours I had spent laboring over them - a pursuit of knowledge twisted into an obsession by Dante’s warped sense of protection. My mind drifted back to my conversation with the delivery man. Freedom came in small packages, but they were packages nonetheless.

I was going to catch him off guard. I knew it.

And then…then I was going to escape.

Chapter Six: Dante

This was an incredibly important part of my plan.

If they bought this, I could keep Jade hidden away for longer. I could keep her protected.

The moment I stepped into the sterile BioHQ conference room, the sharp click of my shoes on pristine tile was like shots fired in silence. My suit, tailored to every muscle it concealed, was both shield and statement—here stood Dante Moretti, a man who demanded respect without uttering a single word.

“Good morning,” I said, letting my voice roll out smooth and sure, a contrast to the stiff-backed suits eyeing me with veiled distrust. “I appreciate you all accommodating my presence today.” I let my gaze settle on each board member, holding their attention, making sure they felt the weight of my stare. The room bristled with the kind of tension that usually precedes a storm, yet I remained as calm as the eye of it.

“Dr. Jade Bentley,” I began, letting her name hang in the air for a moment to gather gravity, “has requested seclusion to focus intensely on her groundbreaking genome research.” My tone was flat, brokering no argument, yet rich with the promise of what that research could yield. “The Moretti labs are proud to sponsor such innovation, and we have made a substantial investment in BioHQ to ensure the project’s success.”

I watched them closely, searching their faces for any sign of dissent. What I saw instead was interest—a flicker here, a nod there—sparked by the mention of innovation and the unspoken language of money. These were scientists, yes, but they were not immune to the allure of funding that my family could provide. It seemed greed could indeed be a universal language, one spoken as fluently in this boardroom as it was on the streets where my family reigned.

“Your support is invaluable,” Dr. Lawson spoke up, his voice tinged with the newfound enthusiasm that money often inspired. It was almost amusing, watching these pillars of science sway under the golden influence. They’d fight tooth and nail for grants and recognition, but lay down their arms when the Moretti coffers opened.

“Of course,” I replied, my lips twitching upward in the ghost of a smirk. “We all strive for progress, do we not?” I let the words settle, a subtle reminder that their cooperation was just as beneficial to them as it was to the Moretti interests.

There’s power in holding the purse strings; I knew that better than anyone. And as much as they might loathe to admit it, so did they.

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking softly under my weight. My gaze shifted to Dr. Prakesh, a woman whose reputation for brilliance was matched only by her steely resolve. I had done a lot of research on her and I respected that about her—she had backbone. “Dr. Prakesh,” I began, offering her the nod of recognition she deserved. “Jade’s work is paramount, and distractions are a luxury we cannot afford.”

Her eyes met mine, sharp and calculating. There was a flicker there, a silent conversation passing between us. She understood the stakes, the unspoken gravity behind my words. Jade’s absence from BioHQ might raise eyebrows, but it would shield her from the politics and threats lurking within these walls.

And, more importantly, it would shield her from Lorenzo Caruso.

Dr. Prakesh’s posture remained unaffected, as if carved from stone, but her eyes gave away the slightest hint of agreement. “I understand, Mr. Moretti.” Her voice was even, controlled. “If Dr. Bentley requires time away to further her project, we can accommodate that.”

I nodded, satisfied. It was almost too easy, the way these academic types seemed to think they were playing the game, not realizing they were pawns on my chessboard. But then again, wasn’t that the beauty of power? The ability to orchestrate without ever letting the orchestra see you conduct.

“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, standing up to signal the end of the meeting. “Your cooperation is appreciated.” I didn’t need to elaborate; the subtext was clear. In this world of ours, you were either with the Morettis or against them. And nobody in their right mind wanted to be against us.

I almost exited the room, the click of the door behind me as final as a judge’s gavel. Dr. Prakesh had come through, her support swaying the rest of the board like dominoes tipping in my favor.

“Mr. Moretti,” I heard just as I reached for the handle of the exit, the voice more hesitant than confrontational but enough to halt my steps.

I turned, locking eyes with the man who dared to delay me. “Yes?” My eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

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