Page 28 of Ivory Crown

Chapter Twelve: Jade

Iwas out of the penthouse…having a dinner date with my captor.

The clink of fine china against silver cutlery surrounded us, a delicate soundtrack to the opulence we were cocooned within. I shifted in the leather seat, my fingers tracing the edge of the crisp white tablecloth as Dante Moretti, the embodiment of lethal charm, sat opposite me. His quiet confidence clashed with the storm of questions raging in my mind.

“Can I ask you something?” My voice was steady, belying the chaos inside.

“Of course,” Dante replied, his eyes meeting mine with an openness that seemed at odds with the secrets I knew he kept. “You can always ask, Jade. Whether I can answer is another matter.”

Taking a deep breath, I dove into the waters I’d been avoiding. “Why did you take my ID card? What was so damn important about BioHQ’s research that you had to betray me?”

For a moment, hurt flickered across his face like a shadow, gone as quickly as it came. He leaned back, the soft leather creaking under him. “It wasn’t personal, Jade. The research...it was a stepping stone for bigger things. We needed it to get the green light for a series of labs focused on neurogenetic research. Labs that are going to be a part of the pharmaceutical company the Morettis now run, including clinics across New York City.”

I could hear the pride in his voice, see it in the way he held himself - the mafia prince with a vision for a future that somehow included me without my consent. The revelation made my stomach twist, not just with anger, but with a strange hint of admiration. Dante Moretti, criminal mastermind and unexpected visionary.

“I mean, you could have asked.”

“I did ask. You never met my lawyers.”

“Your lawyers?” I scoffed, incredulous. “You think I would have just handed over years of my work to the likes of them?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe not, but it was worth a shot.”

I shook my head, frustration bubbling inside me. “You don’t get it, Dante. You can’t just take scientific research and expect instant results. It needs peer review, clinical trials—it has to be vetted and retested.”

“Which is why we’re building more than just labs.” He slid his phone across the table, the screen lit up with blueprints of an imposing structure. “We’re constructing a state-of-the-art facility right here in the city. It’s going to change everything.”

I glanced at the architectural marvel on his phone, my scientist’s heart skipping a beat despite my better judgment. “It looks impressive,” I admitted reluctantly, “but without proper oversight...”

“Jade, I’m not completely clueless when it comes to this stuff,” he interrupted, a flash of annoyance crossing his features. “There will be control measures, audits, checks and balances. The works.”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’re playing with fire. And we both know how that ends.”

Dante reached for my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m doing this for us—for our future. You think I don’t know what this could mean for our child? This is legitimate, Jade. It’s a chance to leave something good behind.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to trust that there was some sliver of nobility in what he was doing. But history had a nasty habit of repeating itself, especially in his world. And yet, as I looked into his eyes, I saw it—the same determination that matched my own when it came to my work.

“You already started this from stolen research you don’t necessarily understand,” I said. “No offense to you, but…”

“I’m not offended,” he replied, waving me off.

“But,” I persisted, “you have to realize that you’re starting off on shaky footing. The implications of BioHQ’s research are complex and far-reaching. The potential for misuse is high, especially if handled by someone without the right knowledge or intentions. And Dante, look, I don’t want to get too specific, right? But if you don’t understand the mechanism by which targeted protein triples axonal recovery then it’s not replicable. Good science is always replicable.”

He smiled at me, his eyes hungry. “What did you just say? Translate that for me.”

“Imagine...” I took a deep breath, struggling to gather my thoughts into a coherent explanation. “Imagine your body is a city and the proteins are the transport system. Certain injuries or diseases can destroy roads, bridges—cutting off access to some parts of the city. BioHQ’s research was focused on finding a way to rebuild those connections faster, essentially tripling the speed of recovery. That includes things like brain injuries.”

“What does that have to do with genomes?” he asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“Genes are the architects, the blueprints of our body, to continue with the city analogy. They dictate how proteins are built and how they function. By altering those blueprints, we can potentially improve or even repair certain bodily functions like axonal recovery. But without a deep understanding of this process...” I shook my head, searching for the right words. “It’s like handing a nuclear weapon to a toddler.”

“God, you’re so hot when you talk science.”

“I’m serious, Dante!” I protested, my cheeks flushing at his unexpected compliment. “You need to understand the gravity of this situation.”

“I know you’re serious. Keep talking. I’m rock hard under this table.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t resist the tug of a smile.

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