CHAPTER 80: CLAIMING DOLAN’S POWER

That night, Dante returned to his own mansion. The butler greeted him with a bow, taking his suitcase from the trunk and carrying it into the house.

He stepped through the doorway at a slower pace, letting his eyes adjust to the familiar space.

The mansion was usually alive at this hour with music blaring, men and women entangled in lust and wild activities.

But tonight, it was silent. Perhaps his absence had made the mansion unusually quiet tonight.

Then, out of nowhere, an image flashed through his mind of his children running around the mansion.

A woman he imagined as his wife rose from the sofa, welcoming him home with a smile.

He scoffed under his breath, dismissing the ridiculous thought.

As footsteps approached from behind, the butler cleared his throat gently.

"Miss Camela came looking for you this morning. She left an envelope and asked you to contact her immediately."

He turned to the butler, eyes on the envelope in his hand.

"Place it in my room."

Dante had no mood when it came to Camela, a woman who acted foolishly. He rubbed his jawline, the gesture surfacing whenever he was deep in thought.

Maybe this was the right time to collect her debt from her mother. He wanted the Dolan territory, one piece at a time.

He went upstairs to freshen up, then dried off and slipped into a robe. His eyes landed on the envelope the butler had placed in his room.

He tossed the towel onto the sofa and reached for the thin envelope. He tore it open, retrieving the papers. A small photo slid out and landed on the floor.

Dante bent down to pick it up, but then his hand suspended halfway to the ground.

A sonogram. "Camela... pregnant?"

He looked back at the papers and began to read. Sure enough, it was her pregnancy report.

His laugh rang out in the quiet night. He was delighted, Camela had just made his work a whole lot easier.

By the next morning, Camela arrived shortly after he summoned her.

He was sitting at the head of the dining table, having breakfast.

"Come here. Eat."

He gestured for her to sit beside him.

The maid stepped forward and prepared breakfast for Camela. She stayed quiet the whole time, fully aware of the mistake she had made.

Dante let her eat for a while. Then, halfway through his meal, he set his cutlery down.

Camela gulped and placed hers down as well.

"It’s okay. Continue," he told her, and she didn’t dare disobey.

The maid cleared his plate and stepped away.

He rested his elbow on the table, his fingers intertwined, his eyes fixed on her as she struggled to swallow her food.

"So... you need my help?"

Camela nodded faintly.

After she and Dante had slept together, she’d gotten her period. The baby wasn’t his, but she still needed his help.

"I can help you. But tell me the truth. Who’s the father?"

"It’s John," she said, knowing she couldn’t lie.

Dante’s brow lifted in surprise. "John?"

"John from Human Resources," she added.

Dante’s brows knit as he looked at her, and she nodded to confirm it.

Slowly, he chuckled, and the chuckle grew until it turned into full laughter, his shoulders shaking with it.

Camela set down her cutlery. She became painfully aware of her own foolishness when Dante laughed like that.

After being fired from the company and ignored by Dante, she had climbed into John’s bed just to get back in.

And in the end, she ended up pregnant with the child of that old pervert.

"Dante, help me. I don’t want my mother to know."

If Rosalba learned she was pregnant without being married, she would use it as an excuse to force her to marry her friend’s son.

He lived wrapped in luxury, yet he was fat and short, far from charming.

"What kind of help do you want?" he asked.

"I... want to get rid of this baby, but my mother can’t ever find out," Camela said, her expression shifting into a quiet plea.

"No," Dante replied. "I can’t help with that. Your mother is smart. She will find out eventually."

Camela’s shoulders slumped. She believed the lie Dante told her.

"But... I have an idea."

"What idea?" she asked cautiously.

"Marry me. Have the baby, and I’ll register the child under Volkhan."

Camela frowned, confused. Why was he being so kind, and why was he helping her like this? She bit her nail, trying to figure out what Dante was plotting.

She asked, "And what do you get out of it?"

"I get my father off my back. I don’t want to marry the women he chooses, much less have a child with any of them."

"Oh." Camela was caught off guard, but she understood.

"And..."

Camela froze, sensing he wasn’t done and that more was coming.

"I want half of the Dolan territory. You need to convince your mother about that."

She nodded right away.

"I can convince her to give all of it," Camela said with a confident smile.

She added, "She’s old and tired and my brother is useless. He’ll never be able to take over. She might even be relieved to pass the power to her son-in-law. Because this child..."

She rubbed her stomach gently. "...will take that position one day too."

Dante’s brows lifted, and a slow smile spread across his face.

So Camela really did have a bit of usefulness after all.

Dante gave Camela an excuse, saying his mansion had become a nest of wild, filthy activities and wasn’t suitable for a baby. In truth, he just wanted her out of his sight.

He promised he would find her a new home and hire new maids for her. She would be the madam of that household. Camela’s eyes sparkled at the idea.

After that, Camela left, and Dante called for Stott.

Stott arrived with an unhappy expression. He didn’t like the idea of Camela marrying his boss. To him, it was a disaster.

"Dante, are you sure? Marry her? She’s an idiot."

Dante smiled, but he didn’t bother looking at Stott’s puzzled face.

"I’m only doing this for the deal. Nothing more."

He rose from his seat and handed Stott a document for the marriage registration.

"Give the registry office whatever money they ask for. I want that marriage certificate altered, and make sure my father never discovers it’s fake."

Stott whistled, eyes sparkling with interest. After a slight bow, he hurried off to carry out the task.