Chapter 4 - Grandma Margaret’s Test
Sophia did not scream.
Dominic almost wished she had.
Anger would have been easier.
Instead she stared at the photograph in his hand with the terrible stillness of someone whose worst suspicion had just been confirmed.
“You said no business.”
“This wasn't supposed to happen.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I know.”
“You knew there might be danger.”
Dominic looked away.
That was enough.
Sophia stepped backward.
“You knew.”
“Not specifically.”
“You knew enough to lie to me.”
“I knew someone had been asking questions.”
“And you brought us here anyway?”
“I thought they were asking about me.”
“They photographed me.”
Dominic had no defense.
He hated that more than he expected.
Sophia folded her arms around herself.
“What happens now?”
“I get you and Lily somewhere safe.”
“My mother is here.”
“I know.”
“My sister gets married in less than an hour.”
“I know.”
“You are not taking us anywhere.”
“Sophia—”
“No.”
There it was again.
That small word.
Everyone else in Dominic's life treated it like a match near gasoline.
Sophia used it as if it belonged to her.
“No,” she repeated. “You don't get to arrive, bring danger with you, and then decide where my family goes.”
Dominic lowered his voice.
“Someone knows where you are.”
“Then fix it.”
The demand hit him.
Not because it was unreasonable.
Because for the first time, Sophia was speaking to him exactly as everyone else did.
As the man expected to make danger disappear.
Dominic turned toward the barn.
“Stay with Lily.”
“Where are you going?”
“To fix it.”
Sophia caught his arm.
“Without violence.”
His eyes met hers.
“Dominic.”
“I heard you.”
“Promise.”
He didn't answer quickly enough.
Sophia's grip tightened.
“My family is here. Children are here. Whatever your world does when people threaten you, it does not happen on this property.”
Dominic looked at her hand on his sleeve.
Then at her face.
“I promise.”
Sophia released him.
Dominic walked toward the far edge of the property and called Marco.
Marco answered on the first ring.
“Tell me you didn't see what I think you saw.”
“They left a photograph.”
“Of you?”
“Sophia.”
Silence.
Then Marco swore.
“I'm sending men.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“Not onto the farm.”
“Someone breached the property.”
“This is a wedding.”
“Exactly. Crowds. Vehicles. Unknown people.”
“Set a perimeter two miles out.”
Marco paused.
“You told Sophia no security.”
“She doesn't need to know.”
“That's becoming a theme.”
Dominic ignored it.
“Find the sedan.”
“We already have traffic cameras checking.”
“Quietly.”
“Victor?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Dominic looked at the photograph again.
Victor Romano usually preferred direct messages.
Threats with witnesses.
Public pressure.
This felt different.
Personal.
“You're thinking Matteo,” Marco said.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
Matteo Romano.
Victor's nephew.
Thirty-two.
Impatient.
Cruel in precisely the way men became cruel when they had inherited power without earning restraint.
“He's been pushing Victor for months,” Marco continued.
“He wants a war.”
“He wants my territory.”
“He wants your name.”
Dominic looked toward the farmhouse.
Sophia stood on the porch.
Even from a distance he could feel her watching him.
“Make sure he doesn't get near this family.”
Marco's tone changed.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“If they know the woman matters, she becomes leverage.”
“She doesn't matter.”
The lie sounded pathetic the moment he said it.
Marco was quiet.
Then he answered softly.
“That's not what I asked.”
Dominic ended the call.
When he returned to the farmhouse, Margaret was waiting alone.
Sophia had gone upstairs to help Emma dress.
Margaret sat in a wooden chair by the window.
“You're either a criminal,” she said, “or the worst accountant I've ever met.”
Dominic stopped.
Margaret pointed at the chair opposite her.
“Sit.”
He almost laughed.
Nobody ordered Dominic Moretti to sit.
He sat.
Margaret studied him.
“I've been sick a long time.”
“I know.”
“Sick people become invisible. Everyone whispers in hallways because they think we can't hear.”
Dominic said nothing.
“I heard Sophia.”
He nodded once.
“Are my girls in danger?”
“I won't let anything happen to them.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Dominic looked at her.
Margaret repeated, “Are they in danger because of you?”
“Yes.”
The word hurt to say.
Margaret's expression did not change.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not lying.”
“I already lied to your daughter.”
“I know.”
Dominic looked toward the staircase.
Margaret followed his gaze.
“She likes you.”
“No, she doesn't.”
Margaret smiled faintly.
“You're not as smart as everyone thinks.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“She doesn't trust me.”
“Those aren't opposites.”
That sentence stayed between them.
Margaret shifted beneath her blanket.
“You know what dying does?”
Dominic waited.
“It removes politeness.”
“I noticed.”
“I don't care if you're rich. I don't care if you're dangerous. I don't care if a hundred men jump when you raise your hand.”
She leaned forward.
“I care whether my daughter is going to spend the next forty years believing she has to carry everything alone.”
Dominic's expression tightened.
“I can't solve that.”
“Good.”
He frowned.
“Good?”
“Men who think women need solving make terrible husbands.”
Dominic glanced toward the ceiling.
“This conversation has moved quickly.”
“I have limited time.”
He couldn't argue with that.
Margaret smiled.
“My husband used to say love wasn't the person who promised you nothing bad would happen.”
Dominic looked at her.
“It was the person who stayed useful when something bad did.”
The wedding music began outside.
Margaret slowly stood.
Dominic immediately moved to help.
She waved him away.
“I can stand.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you hovering?”
“Because your daughter would kill me if you fell.”
Margaret laughed.
“You are afraid of Sophia.”
“No.”
“You should be.”
Outside, guests took their seats.
Emma appeared in the farmhouse doorway wearing her wedding dress.
Sophia stood beside her.
For one moment everything else disappeared.
Emma was crying.
Sophia was laughing.
Margaret pressed one hand to her mouth.
Dominic watched the three women look at one another.
Mother.
Daughter.
Sister.
A family standing inside a moment they already knew would become precious because there might not be another wedding with Margaret in the front row.
Dominic felt the old ache.
Eight minutes.
He looked away.
Sophia noticed.
Later, during the ceremony, Lily sat between Sophia and Dominic.
Halfway through the vows she became bored.
She placed Mr. Whiskers in Dominic's lap.
He looked down.
The rabbit stared back with its exhausted crooked eye.
“What am I supposed to do with him?” Dominic whispered.
“Hold him.”
“Why?”
“He gets emotional at weddings.”
Sophia heard.
Her shoulders began shaking.
Dominic looked at her.
She covered her smile.
For one brief second, the threat on the car felt far away.
Emma and Ben exchanged rings.
Margaret cried openly.
Sophia reached across Lily and took her mother's hand.
Dominic watched.
Something inside him shifted.
Not dramatically.
Nothing in Dominic changed dramatically.
His transformations came like cracks in stone.
Small.
Almost invisible.
Permanent.
After the ceremony, guests moved toward the barn.
Music began.
Dinner was served.
Dominic checked his phone beneath the table.
Three messages from Marco.
Sedan located. Plates stolen.
Driver abandoned it near Route 611.
Then:
Found something inside. Call me.
Dominic stood.
Sophia immediately noticed.
“Where are you going?”
“Phone call.”
She studied him.
“Five minutes.”
He nodded.
Outside, he called Marco.
“What?”
“We found photographs.”
Dominic's grip tightened.
“How many?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Of what?”
“The estate. Your office building. Sophia's bus stop.”
Dominic went cold.
Marco continued.
“And Lily's preschool.”
For several seconds Dominic could not speak.
Then Marco said the part that changed everything.
“One photograph is older.”
“How old?”
“Almost four years.”
Dominic stared across the field.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“No.”
“What is it?”
Marco hesitated.
“A picture of Sophia.”
“Where?”
“Outside St. Vincent's Hospital.”
Dominic remembered nothing about St. Vincent's.
Then Marco added:
“She was holding a newborn.”
Dominic looked toward the barn.
Through the open doors he could see Sophia dancing with Lily.
Mother and daughter laughing beneath warm lights.
Someone had not started watching them because of Dominic.
Someone had been watching Sophia for years.
And whatever had followed them to Pennsylvania—
May you like
had begun long before Lily ever stepped into his foyer.
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