DANTE's POV
The door didn't need to be kicked open.
But Matteo did it anyway.
The sound cracked through the office like a gunshot.
Everything inside froze.
Keyboards stopped mid-typing. Chairs scraped back. Papers slipped from hands that suddenly didn't feel steady anymore.
I didn't say anything as I stepped in. Didn't need to.
One by one, the journalists in the room lowered their eyes, shifting back, clearing space without being told. Someone knocked over a cup. No one picked it up.
Mone of them dared to meet my eyes.
They understood exactly who just walked into their world.
My gaze moved once across the room—then settled.
Daniel Reyes was still sat in his office chair, coffe in his hand and a glint in his eyes.
He was watching me like this was a scheduled meeting instead of an intrusion.
He didn't bother to stand.
Instead, he gestured lightly to the chair across from him.
