Chapter 12 - The Night Boston Burned
The firefighters got us out.
Lily was wrapped in a blanket.
I sat in an ambulance breathing oxygen while Dominic's SUV stopped so violently at the curb that one of the tires jumped the sidewalk.
He ran toward us.
I had never seen him look like that.
Not controlled.
Not intimidating.
Terrified.
"Lily?"
"She's fine."
He looked at my face.
"You?"
"Fine."
His hands hovered near my shoulders as though he wanted to touch me but wasn't sure he had the right.
I solved it.
I hugged him.
Dominic froze.
Then his arms closed around me.
Hard.
Not romantic.
Not yet.
Human.
Relieved.
For several seconds, we held each other beside flashing red lights.
Then he whispered, "I'm sorry."
I stepped back.
"You didn't start the fire."
"My life brought him here."
"Then help end it."
His eyes hardened.
I knew what he was thinking.
"No."
"What?"
"Not your old way."
He looked at the apartment.
"Isabella—"
"If you become Salvatore to defeat Salvatore, he wins."
Dominic stared.
I don't know whether my words reached him then.
But he remembered them.
Investigators confirmed the fire had been deliberately started in the ground-floor storage area.
No one died.
Two residents suffered minor smoke inhalation.
Salvatore had wanted fear, not bodies.
That made him more dangerous.
He wanted Dominic emotional.
Reactive.
Predictable.
The old Dominic would have given him exactly that.
Instead, Dominic did something Salvatore never expected.
He held a press conference.
Publicly.
No family spokesman.
No attorney reading a statement.
Dominic himself.
Every Boston news outlet attended.
He stood behind a podium in a dark suit.
For once, his power came not from mystery but exposure.
"My family has been associated with criminal activity for generations."
Reporters erupted.
Dominic waited.
"I have participated in decisions I regret."
More shouting.
"I am cooperating with authorities in an ongoing investigation involving financial crimes, corruption, and the death of my wife, Elena Moretti."
The room fell silent.
He looked directly into the cameras.
"Anyone threatening my family in an attempt to stop that cooperation should understand something."
I watched from the mansion.
Leo sat beside me.
Dominic continued.
"I will not be intimidated into becoming the person I am trying to leave behind."
Leo looked at me.
"He's talking about being good."
My eyes filled.
"He's trying."
Dominic finished.
"My son deserves a different inheritance than fear."
That line played on television for days.
Some people called him brave.
Others called him a criminal trying to save himself.
Both could be true.
People are complicated.
The important part was that Leo heard him.
And believed him.
The press conference created pressure.
Salvatore lost hiding places.
Former allies refused to shelter him.
Banks flagged accounts.
Investigators seized properties.
Dominic's cooperation became public enough that killing him would only strengthen the case.
For the first time, Salvatore was the one running.
My apartment was uninhabitable.
Dominic offered us rooms at the mansion.
I refused at first.
Then Lily asked whether Leo had cereal.
We moved in temporarily.
Temporarily became complicated.
Mornings changed.
Lily wandered into breakfast in pajamas.
Leo complained about homework.
Dominic learned to make coffee for two.
Badly.
"You put sugar in mine."
"You use sugar."
"One."
"I used one."
"That is not one."
"It's one spoon."
"It's a serving spoon."
He looked at the spoon.
"Technicality."
I laughed.
Domestic life did not suit Dominic naturally.
That was why watching him learn it was so moving.
One morning, Leo spilled orange juice.
He froze.
The old instinct returned.
Dominic looked at the mess.
Then deliberately tipped his own glass.
Juice spread across the table.
Leo stared.
"What did you do?"
"Now we're both in trouble."
Lily dumped hers too.
"No!"
I grabbed towels.
Dominic laughed.
Leo laughed.
I tried to look angry.
Failed.
Little moments rebuilt what years of fear had damaged.
Then came the day Dominic finally told Leo the full truth he could understand.
They sat beneath the tree near Elena's grave.
Dominic explained someone had hurt his mother because she was trying to stop bad things.
"Was it Dad's fault?" Leo asked me later.
"What do you think?"
"He says some."
"How?"
"He said he didn't listen when Mom asked him to change."
I nodded.
Leo looked toward Dominic.
"But the bad person chose to hurt her."
"Yes."
"So both things can be true?"
"Yes."
Leo considered that.
"Grown-up stuff is confusing."
"You have no idea."
He smiled.
That evening, Dominic stood in the kitchen alone.
I entered.
"You okay?"
He nodded.
Then shook his head.
"I told him."
"I know."
"He asked if Elena would still be alive if I'd left sooner."
My chest tightened.
"What did you say?"
"Maybe."
"That was honest."
"It hurt him."
"Lies hurt longer."
Dominic looked at me.
"How do you know what to say?"
"I don't."
"You always act like you do."
"That's motherhood."
He laughed quietly.
Then stopped.
"Isabella."
The way he said my name changed the air.
I looked at him.
"I know I said I wouldn't ask anything while you worked for me."
My heart started beating faster.
"And?"
"I've arranged another position for you."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Not because I want you gone."
"Dominic—"
"Same salary. Better, actually. At the children's foundation Elena started."
I stared.
"You've been planning this?"
"For weeks."
"Why?"
"So you can choose."
The room went silent.
He stepped closer.
"You can work somewhere that doesn't depend on me."
My throat tightened.
"And if you still want to be here..."
He stopped.
I waited.
Dominic Moretti, feared across Boston, looked more nervous than I had ever seen him.
"Then I can finally tell you what I want."
Before he could finish, Matteo entered.
"Bad time?"
Dominic closed his eyes.
"Extremely."
Matteo held up a phone.
"Then you're going to hate this."
On the screen was a live video.
Salvatore.
Standing somewhere dark.
Behind him sat Gabriel.
Tied to a chair.
Salvatore smiled into the camera.
"Dominic," he said, "let's finish what Elena started."
May you like
And this time, he gave Dominic an address.
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