THE UNDERESTIMATED UNDERWORLD KING

DESTROYING EVERYTHING

Dante woke to the sound of his city burning.

Not literally—though the morning news made it feel close. He stood in his penthouse suite, coffee in hand, watching three different news channels on the wall-mounted screens. Each one screamed a variation of the same story.

"HAYES CORP MIRACLE MAN EXPOSED AS FRAUD!"

"Marcus Reid: Con Artist or Business Genius?"

"Socialite Scarlett Hayes in Love Triangle Scandal—Marriage to Mystery Investor Falls Apart!"

The penthouse itself told a different story than the attic he'd left behind. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Furniture that whispered wealth without shouting it. Art on the walls that museums would kill for. This was how Dante actually lived when he wasn't playing the fool.

His phone buzzed with updates from Vincent. Hayes Corp stock in freefall. Investors pulling out faster than rats from a sinking ship. Marcus Reid's phone going straight to voicemail for everyone who called.

Across town, the Hayes mansion looked like a war zone.

Victoria sat at the breakfast table, cigarette burning between her fingers—something she never did, not in twenty years. The pristine image she'd cultivated didn't include tobacco stains. Today, she didn't care.

Scarlett stumbled downstairs looking like she'd aged five years overnight. Her eyes were red-rimmed, makeup smeared, still wearing last night's gown because she hadn't bothered to change.

"Any word from Marcus?" Victoria's voice was hoarse.

"Nothing. His phone's off. His apartment's empty. It's like he vanished." Scarlett collapsed into a chair. "Mother, what's happening to us?"

"That bastard Dante is what's happening." Victoria stubbed out the cigarette and immediately lit another. "He's sabotaging us. Somehow, he's destroying everything."

"He can't be. He's nobody. He doesn't have the resources to—"

"Then explain last night!" Victoria's hand slammed the table. "Explain James Westfield treating him like royalty! Explain our investors running for the exits! Explain Marcus disappearing the moment his fraud was exposed!"

Scarlett had no answers. She pushed away from the table and walked to her father's study, desperate for something solid to hold onto. The room smelled like him still—leather and old books and the cigars he'd pretended not to smoke.

She pulled open desk drawers randomly, looking for what, she didn't know. Old photos spilled out. She picked one up and froze.

It showed her and Dante from three years ago, right after the wedding. She was smiling at him. Actually smiling, warm and genuine, like she was happy to be near him. She had no memory of that moment, but the photo didn't lie.

"What spell did you cast on me, this bastard fool?" she whispered at the image.

She kept searching and found a wooden box hidden in the back of the bottom drawer. Inside were letters—correspondence between her father and Dante from before Leonard's death.

Leonard,

The threats against your family have escalated. I've neutralized the immediate danger, but there are more players involved than we initially assessed. I'm recommending we increase security protocols and begin asset stabilization procedures for Hayes Corp. The vultures are circling. -Lord D. Aurelius

Her father's response, in his distinctive handwriting:

My Lord,

Your protection means everything. Scarlett doesn't understand yet, but she will. You're the only one I trust with her life. Whatever you need, whatever resources, they're yours. -L.H.

My Lord. Her father had called Dante "My Lord." Like he was bowing to him. Like Dante was someone who commanded that kind of respect.

"Manipulation," Scarlett hissed, throwing the letters down. "He must have manipulated Father somehow. Made him delusional. What other explanation is there?"

Victoria burst into the study, waving bank statements like weapons. "Someone has been paying our debts for three years! Millions of dollars—gambling debts I buried, creditors I thought forgot about me—someone made a deal with them all! That's why they never bothered to disturb us."

"Who?"

"I don't know! But now those same creditors are calling, furious that I made them lose the privileges they've been enjoying. They're demanding I pay them back with interest because they still have their leverage over me!" Victoria's face was mottled red. "This has to be Dante. He's been meddling in our business, manipulating our partners, agitating our creditors just to destroy us!"

"Why would he interfere with your debts if he wanted to destroy us?"

"To control us! To have something to hold over our heads!" Victoria grabbed Scarlett's shoulders. "Don't you see? He's been playing us from the beginning. That helpless act was all fake. He's dangerous, Scarlett. More dangerous than we ever imagined."

Scarlett wanted to disagree, but the evidence was piling up too high. Dante had resources they'd never known about. Power they'd never suspected. And he'd hidden it all while they treated him like garbage.

The question was why.

______

Dante dressed for war dressed as a casual meeting.

Dark jeans, black cashmere sweater, leather jacket that probably cost more than a used car. The kind of outfit that said dangerous without trying. He checked his reflection once—not vanity, just tactical assessment—and headed for the door.

Vincent intercepted him in the hallway. "Boss, Isabella Ashford is not someone to underestimate. She's called the Ice Queen for a reason. Never shown interest in any man, never been in a scandal, never made a business mistake. If she's reaching out, she wants something specific."

"Everyone wants something, Vincent. The question is whether what she's offering is worth the price."

"And if it's a trap?"

Dante smiled. "Then she'll learn why people fear the Phantom."

The Obsidian Gallery sat in the heart of the financial district, a temple to wealth masquerading as culture. Dante walked in like he owned it—which, through three shell companies and a Cayman Islands trust, he technically did. The staff recognized power when they saw it and led him to a private viewing room without questions.

Isabella Ashford entered like winter taking human form.

Platinum blonde hair pulled back severe. Ice-blue eyes that missed nothing. White Chanel suit that probably cost six figures and made her look like a snow queen holding court. She was beautiful the way glaciers were beautiful—stunning and deadly if you got too close.

They studied each other for a long moment, neither speaking.

"You came alone," she finally said.

"So did you. That makes us either very trusting or very dangerous."

"I'm betting on dangerous." Her smile was sharp. "For both of us."

She gestured to a painting on the wall—abstract chaos rendered in blacks and grays, somehow both violent and elegant. "Phantom's Regret, by an anonymous artist. Worth thirty million. I bought it two years ago because something about it felt familiar. Then last night, watching you at that gala, I understood why."

"You didn't ask me here to discuss art, Miss Ashford."

"Isabella, please. And no, I didn't." She moved closer, heels clicking on marble. "I asked you here because Leonard Hayes and I were lovers twenty years ago, before he married Victoria. And he told me secrets about you that even you don't know."

For the first time in years, Dante felt genuinely surprised. "Leonard never mentioned you."

"That's because Victoria's father arranged their marriage for business, and Leonard was forced to end our relationship. But we remained friends. Confidants. And three years ago, when he was dying, he called me with a request." She pulled out a tablet, swiped to display documents. "Leonard Hayes didn't just leave his fortune to Scarlett. He left a secret inheritance—a collection of information worth billions. Blackmail material on every powerful family in this city, evidence of crimes, hidden assets. It's called the Hayes Archive."

Dante's expression didn't change, but his attention sharpened.

"And only one person can access it," Isabella continued. "You, the king of the underworld. Leonard embedded the access codes in your biometrics—fingerprint, retinal scan, and DNA since you were small. He made you the literal guardian of power that could topple governments."

"That's why he wanted the marriage."

"Partially. He wanted you to protect Scarlett, yes. But more than that, he wanted to ensure the Archive stayed hidden until the right person could use it. Someone with the power to wield it and the integrity not to abuse it." She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her perfume—something expensive and cold. "Now that you're divorcing Scarlett, that power becomes accessible. Dangerous people will come for you. Not to kill you, but to capture you and force you to unlock the Archive."

"And you're proposing what, exactly?"

"Partner with me. Together, we control that information and reshape this city's power structure. And in return, I'll help you make everyone who hurt you suffer in ways they can't imagine."

The door burst open.

Vincent never burst in anywhere. The fact that he did now meant emergency, crisis, and catastrophe. "Boss, we have a critical situation. Scarlett Hayes has been kidnapped. Taken from the mansion twenty minutes ago by a professional team. They left a message."

He handed Dante a phone showing a photo. Scarlett, bound to a chair, terrified but unharmed. The message below: The Phantom will unlock the Archive, or his wife dies in 24 hours. We know he can't resist saving her. Old habits die hard.

Isabella's eyes narrowed. "It's started sooner than I expected. The Syndicate has made their move." She turned to Dante. "So, Phantom—do you save the woman who betrayed you and risk losing your freedom? Or do you let her die and keep your power? Choose quickly. The clock is ticking."

Dante's fingers were already flying across his phone. "Vincent, activate Shadow Protocol. Isabella, if you're coming, we leave now. Tell me everything you know about the Syndicate."

They rushed toward the exit, Isabella keeping pace in her heels without breaking stride. "You're still going to save her, even after everything?"

Dante's voice was ice and iron. "I'm not saving her out of love, Miss Ashford. I'm saving her because no one takes what's mine without permission—and that includes the option to walk away on my terms.”