Chapter 4 - The Truth Behind the Disappearance
The grandfather clock in the grand hallway chimed two in the morning.
Upstairs, in the master suite, the four boys were finally asleep. It had taken two hours, three bedtime stories read by Elena, and an impromptu tour of the estate’s private armory—which I had swiftly aborted before Elena could decapitate me with a glare. In the end, all four boys had insisted on sleeping horizontally across the massive king-sized bed, their limbs tangled together like a litter of cubs.
Elena sat on the chaise lounge near the balcony doors, watching their rhythmic breathing. The tension in her shoulders hadn't vanished, but the frantic terror had receded, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion.
I walked into the room carrying a cup of chamomile tea, setting it on the side table beside her.
“Drink it,” I said quietly. “No poison. Maria made it.”
Elena looked at the steam rising from the porcelain, then looked up at me. “How did you find us tonight, Dominic? Truly. You said your driver was delayed?”
“Fate,” I answered, leaning against the doorframe, my arms crossed. “Or a curse. Marco took a wrong turn off Commonwealth because of construction. I had an hour to kill before the Barrett circus began. I needed to wash the taste of that fake life out of my mouth. I walked into the first upscale restaurant I saw.”
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. “Of all the bathrooms in New England.”
“They were washing their hands,” I said, the memory still vivid, striking a chord deep in my ribs. “Lucas cracked his neck. Just like this.” I tilted my head, reaching my left hand back to replicate the motion.
Elena let out a soft, breathy sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “They all do it. Whenever they’re nervous or plotting something. I spent six years looking at four miniature versions of the man who broke my heart, wondering if you were out there laughing with your mob princess while I was boiling water to heat the bath.”
“I never laughed with Sloane,” I said fiercely, taking two steps toward her. “I never touched her. It was a business merger arranged by the council. The day you left, Elena, the part of me that was capable of happiness died. Ask Anthony. Ask Marco. Ask anyone in this city. I became a machine.”
She stared at her hands, her fingers tracing the hem of her worn sweater. “Your father was a monster, Dominic.”
“He was,” I admitted, my jaw clenching until my teeth ached. “And if he weren't already buried in Holy Cross Cemetery, I would pull him out of the ground with my bare hands and make him answer for what he did to you.”
She looked up, startled by the venom in my voice. She searched my face, looking for the young, reckless man she had loved six years ago, and finding the battle-hardened Don who had replaced him.
“What happens now?” she asked quietly. “You can't just keep us here. I have a job at the museum. The boys have kindergarten on Monday. We have a life, Dominic. It’s small, and it’s hard, but it’s ours. It isn't filled with bodyguards and armored trucks.”
“That life ended the moment I saw you tonight,” I said, not cruelly, but with absolute finality. “Sloane Barrett is not a woman who forgives public humiliation. Her father controls the state port authority and half the municipal judges. More importantly, my uncle Salvatore has been waiting for an excuse to challenge my seat as Don. If they discover these boys exist—if they realize I have four heirs—they will use them as leverage.”
Elena stood up abruptly, her eyes wide with maternal panic. “Leverage? They’re babies!”
“To men like Salvatore and Barrett, they are targets,” I growled, closing the distance between us until my chest was inches from hers. I grabbed her shoulders gently, feeling the delicate bone structure beneath her wool sweater. “Listen to me, Elena. I spent six years living in an empty tomb. I lost six years of their lives. I will not lose their future. You and the boys stay here. Under my protection. Under my name.”
“Your name?” she whispered, her breath hitching.
May you like
“Before this week is over, every legal document in the Commonwealth will reflect the truth,” I declared, my voice a vow. “Leo, Julian, Matteo, and Lucas Moretti. And if anyone in this city has an objection, they can bring it to me in blood.”
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