The afternoon sun shone over the vast ranch prairie, reflecting a soft golden-green hue.
The breeze blew gently, causing the blades of grass to sway lightly, creating rippling waves.
The air was filled with the scent of grass and earth, along with the elegant aroma of wildflowers.
A fence that had been erected the night before stretched along the edge of the pasture, the sunlight gleaming off the fresh wood.
Dante stood by the fence, gripping a hammer in his hand.
At his feet lay a few freshly cut wooden planks—light in texture, strong and durable, exuding a faint scent of wood.
The fence frame was already built, and all that remained was to place the planks one by one to reinforce it, turning it into a temporary barrier to keep wild animals from getting in.
He crouched down, aligned the planks with the frame, and drove in the first nail. The wood made a dull thud that echoed across the grass.
As the hammer rose and fell, it intertwined with the distant sound of birdsong, forming a melody.
From time to time, he looked up and saw calves roaming peacefully across the pasture, lowering their heads to sniff the grass and playing joyfully.
"So, how was Mexico?" Beside him, Susie watched the young calves frolicking in the grass.
"I worked with the DEA to take down some targets they had been hunting for a while."
A few mischievous calves approached and rubbed their necks against an old donkey that was always chewing grass, but the old donkey simply shook its head, remaining indifferent.
Suddenly, several wild white-tailed deer silently leaped over the wire-bound fence and landed in the pasture.
They moved so lightly that they barely stirred a speck of dust.
The deer watched their surroundings closely, maintaining a friendly yet cautious distance from the calves. Only after confirming there was no threat did they relax and begin nibbling on the grass.
The calves, intrigued by their new companions, gathered around, sniffing each other and trying to touch heads.
The white-tailed deer leaped nimbly, dodging the calves and occasionally using their agile movements to provoke one or two timid calves into chasing them.
One of the ponies in the field approached a smaller white-tailed deer and lowered its head slightly. The two entirely different creatures gently touched noses before quickly pulling away and taking a few steps back.
Susie watched the scene, smiled, pulled out her phone, and quietly recorded the warm moment in nature. "You know that if you worked with them, the CIA must have learned about your activities in Mexico."
"Do you think—"
"If they have a file on you, they'll use you as a resource for their witch hunts abroad." Susie knew who Dante's main enemies were, and the CIA was undoubtedly one of the biggest.
There might even be agents inside the organization trying to uncover everything about SAMCRO. There was no doubt about it. Some agents had been found snooping around secrets that weren't accessible to just anyone.
For field agents, Dante had protective barriers in place before granting them his trust.
Not everyone was accepted, but they could always receive assistance.
This was especially managed by William to prevent agents from identifying SAMCRO's high-ranking members.
"Working for them might not be so bad. I might even get immunity for the businesses I own in the country." Dante had accepted that at some point, the CIA would ask him for some jobs.
Everyone was prepared to negotiate—after all, the mafia was embedded in every type of organization.
"Your sister knows something."
"And do you think we should tell her?" Dante always listened to Susie's advice on these matters—she was sharp at spotting flaws he often missed.
"If you don't tell her, she'll dig deeper. Just give her something easy to digest." Susie knew about Kayce, so she believed Dante could handle this and more.
"Then I'll do it."
Susie stepped closer to Dante, kissed him for a few seconds, and said, "I'm going to check out my new cabin. There are some things I want to change in the interior design."
"Get whatever you want." Dante bid her farewell and continued his work, sensing that his sister would arrive at any moment.
…
A few minutes later.
Dante raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
The breeze blew softly against his face, cooling the sweat and refreshing his body.
He held the heavy hammer in his slightly reddened, rough palm, precisely controlling the force of each blow, driving the wooden planks firmly into the fence.
Taking a deep breath, he felt his shoulders and arms swell, his chest rising and falling slightly.
After driving in the last plank, he stood up. The glow of the setting sun shone over the fence, which had finally taken shape. A sense of accomplishment surged in his heart, washing away the hard labor of the afternoon in simple satisfaction.
Shortly after, William's designated personnel finished installing the surveillance system—a day ahead of schedule.
After Dante inspected everything, he gestured to them, watching as the truck kicked up a cloud of dust and gradually disappeared down the road.
He turned and walked toward a greenhouse that would be finished in a few days, humming a little tune he had improvised as he quickened his pace.
The calves in the stable had gathered early in the morning. When they heard his familiar footsteps, they all approached, exhaling small clouds of white air from their nostrils.
Dante's gaze was soft as he slowly walked toward the stable and gently stroked the top of a calf's head. The touch was warm and smooth.
He added more hay and feed.
They had already eaten plenty in the pasture this afternoon, so their dinner portions could be reduced accordingly, but it couldn't be skipped.
The most important thing was that the ponies couldn't miss a meal—otherwise, they would lose a day of growth.
The calves gathered around him, nibbling at the feed, making subtle chewing sounds, as if it were the perfect lullaby after a hard day's work.
As he continued adding feed, he heard a soft rustling behind him, like a furry animal moving through the grass.
He turned around and saw that it was indeed a squirrel, silently emerging from the edge of the forest.
"It's been a long time since I've seen you working on the ranch. I thought you had gotten tired of this place." Beth's voice came from behind Dante, who had just finished feeding his ponies.
Dante looked at his sister, greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and said, "I got you a gift. You can find it at the house."
"I don't have a house here."
"But you will. I think."
"Now tell me something—where did you get over a hundred million dollars in a bank account linked only to your businesses?" Beth got straight to what was bothering her.
"That much money? My investors are billionaires."
"You call them investors when the account's activity is only linked to your businesses?" Beth stared at Dante, who simply remained silent.
"Well..."
Beth had spent hours going through documents, financial records, and transactions, searching for something that justified the exponential growth of her brother's empire. She knew Dante had a talent for business, but something didn't add up.
That's when she found an account she had never seen before among the multiple accounts registered under his name and his companies.
It had no conventional banking history—no personal expenses, no minor transactions. Every deposit was a massive sum of money, accumulating millions in just months. The strangest part? The only recorded transactions were directly tied to Dante's commercial operations. No payroll, no taxes, no real estate investments. Just constant income and figures that were too round to be a coincidence.
This wasn't just another account—it was a financial hideout.
A key piece that could reveal what Dante had never told her.
"You know that if I figured this out, someone else might have too?" To hell with right and wrong—what mattered to Beth was her brother.