Chapter 3 - Dinner With the Man Everyone Feared
Lena did not speak during the drive back.
Dominic did not force her.
That earned him a small amount of trust.
Not much.
But enough.
When they returned, Lena went directly to the kitchen.
She cooked because anger needed somewhere to go.
Onions became perfectly thin slices.
Garlic became paste beneath her knife.
A whole chicken was broken down with surgical precision.
Dominic appeared twenty minutes later.
“You’re angry.”
Lena slammed a pan onto the burner.
“Brilliant observation.”
“At me?”
“I haven't decided.”
He leaned against the counter.
“My father knew your mother.”
“She feared your family.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to stay here?”
“No.”
That stopped her.
Dominic continued.
“I expect you to decide for yourself.”
Lena looked at him.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you helping me?”
He was silent.
Too silent.
“Dominic.”
“Because twelve years ago, I met your mother.”
Lena froze.
“You what?”
“She came to my father’s house.”
“When?”
“Two years before she died.”
Lena’s heart began pounding.
“What did she want?”
“I don't know. My father sent everyone away.”
“But you saw her.”
“Yes.”
“Was she afraid?”
Dominic remembered.
“Yes.”
Lena swallowed.
“What happened after?”
“She left.”
“And?”
“Three days later, my father ordered every record connected to Gianni Caruso destroyed.”
Lena stared.
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
Dinner that night became an interrogation disguised as a meal.
Lena served pasta alla Genovese.
Dominic insisted she sit.
This time, she did.
He poured wine.
She refused it.
“I need a clear head.”
“So do I.”
“Then why are you drinking?”
“I have experience.”
Lena almost smiled.
They ate.
For twenty minutes, Dominic told her things he had never intended to tell anyone outside his family.
His father had maintained secret financial ledgers.
One disappeared after Sofia visited.
Years later, Gianni began borrowing money through Moretti-controlled intermediaries.
Dominic had assumed gambling.
Now he was no longer certain.
“Marco manages the old accounts,” Dominic said.
Lena stopped eating.
“Marco.”
“Yes.”
“The same Marco whose folder contained that photograph.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
They looked at each other.
The conclusion was unavoidable.
Marco knew more.
That night, Lena returned to her room.
The lock had been changed.
Raphael had stationed someone outside.
She disliked it.
But for the first time, she understood the guard might actually be there to protect her.
At 11:30, someone knocked.
Dominic.
He held something.
Her mother's notebook.
Lena stopped breathing.
“Where did you get that?”
“Marco’s office.”
Her face changed.
“You searched his office?”
“Yes.”
“You found it?”
“Yes.”
Lena took the notebook.
Her mother’s handwriting filled the pages.
Recipes.
Sauces.
Measurements.
Notes.
Memories.
Lena began crying before she realized it.
Dominic looked away, giving her privacy without leaving.
She turned pages.
Then stopped.
Several pages had been cut out.
“What was here?”
Dominic shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Lena examined the binding.
Something was wrong.
Her mother had taught her to bind recipe books herself.
She remembered the technique.
She pressed along the spine.
A thin folded paper slipped free.
Dominic bent down.
Lena grabbed it first.
It was a bank transfer record.
$340,000.
Transferred eighteen years earlier.
Not eleven months.
The recipient name made both of them stare.
Marco Fieri Sr.
Marco’s father.
And underneath, in Sofia’s handwriting:
This money bought silence. If they ever ask Gianni to repay it, the truth has been discovered.
Lena looked at Dominic.
“What truth?”
Before he could answer, glass shattered downstairs.
Then came a gunshot.
Dominic grabbed Lena and pulled her behind the wall.
Another shot.
Footsteps thundered through the house.
Dominic reached beneath his jacket.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“I’m done staying where people put me.”
Their eyes locked.
Then Raphael shouted from downstairs.
“Dominic!”
Dominic moved.
Lena followed despite his command.
They reached the kitchen.
Marco stood near the service entrance.
Blood covered his sleeve.
One security officer lay unconscious nearby.
Marco looked at Dominic.
Then Lena.
“They came for her.”
Lena’s blood went cold.
“Who?”
Marco looked directly at the notebook in her hands.
And said:
May you like
“The people your mother spent eighteen years hiding you from.”
---
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