Chapter 17 - Fifteen Million Dollars and One Final Choice
Dominic burned the pasta.
Clara stood in the mansion kitchen staring at the pan.
“I’ve treated trauma cases less severe than this.”
Dominic frowned.
“It was four minutes.”
“At what temperature?”
“High.”
“Why?”
“To cook faster.”
She stared.
He looked defensive.
“That sounds logical.”
“To people who have never entered a kitchen.”
Arthur sat at the island drinking wine.
“I offered assistance.”
Dominic pointed at him.
“You suggested ordering Italian.”
“A strong plan.”
Clara laughed.
The mansion felt different.
Half the security staff were gone.
Several rooms had been converted into offices for charitable projects.
The formal atmosphere had softened.
Even the enormous black-and-gold Rossi banners had disappeared from the main hall.
“What happened to the dramatic flags?” Clara asked.
Dominic looked offended.
“They were family banners.”
“They were terrifying.”
“They were historic.”
“They looked like a small European dictatorship had occupied the staircase.”
Arthur choked on his wine.
Dominic sighed.
“I removed them.”
“Why?”
“You hated them.”
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“Dangerous precedent.”
“Yes.”
They ordered pizza.
Dominic Rossi, once photographed leaving Michelin-starred restaurants surrounded by security, sat at a marble kitchen island eating pepperoni pizza from a cardboard box.
Clara loved him.
The certainty no longer frightened her.
But love did not erase history.
After Arthur left, Clara placed a folder on the counter.
Dominic recognized it.
“Divorce paperwork.”
“Final documents.”
He nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Clara studied him.
“Any regrets?”
“A thousand.”
“About releasing me?”
“No.”
“About marrying me?”
Dominic looked at her.
“About how I did it.”
The distinction mattered.
“What would you do differently?”
“I would meet you at a coffee shop.”
“You hate coffee shops.”
“I would endure.”
“And?”
“I would ask you to dinner.”
“I might say no.”
“Probably.”
“What then?”
“Ask once more after an appropriate period.”
“Still no?”
“Accept crushing defeat.”
Clara smiled.
“Growth.”
“Humiliating growth.”
She walked closer.
“What if I eventually said yes?”
“Dinner?”
“Yes.”
“I would try not to terrify the waiter.”
“Good.”
“And eventually I might ask you to marry me.”
“Might?”
Dominic smiled.
“Trying not to appear desperate.”
“You’re failing.”
“Then yes. I would.”
Clara reached into her pocket.
She placed the wedding ring between them.
Dominic’s smile vanished.
“I’m not putting this back on.”
Pain flickered across his face.
“Understood.”
She continued.
“Because it belongs to the marriage built on Ethan’s debt.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“And that marriage needs to end tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
Clara stepped closer.
“But I would like dinner.”
He stared.
“Dinner?”
“At a coffee shop if you want to suffer.”
“Clara.”
“And maybe more than one.”
Understanding began reaching him.
“You’re asking me on a date.”
“I believe so.”
Dominic looked genuinely stunned.
She laughed.
“Chicago’s most feared man has no response?”
“I’m trying not to ruin this.”
“That would be new.”
He stepped closer.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because of the alley?”
“No.”
“Because I released the debt?”
“No.”
“Because—”
“Dominic.”
He stopped.
“Because I love you.”
Everything in him became still.
Clara had seen Dominic survive injury.
Financial collapse.
Betrayal.
War.
Nothing had ever rendered him speechless like four words.
She smiled.
“You can breathe.”
He did.
“I love you too.”
“I know.”
“Victor told you.”
“He did.”
“I resent that.”
“You should have been faster.”
Dominic laughed.
Then carefully touched her face.
“May I kiss you?”
The question mattered.
Clara’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Their first real kiss happened months after their wedding.
No guests.
No contracts.
No family arrangements.
No photographers.
Just two people standing beside burned pasta.
When they separated, Clara whispered:
“That was better.”
“Than?”
“Our wedding.”
“Low standard.”
“True.”
The divorce finalized the following morning.
Clara Hayes became legally single at 10:14 a.m.
At 7:00 p.m., Dominic picked her up for their first date.
No security convoy.
One car.
He brought flowers.
Too many.
She laughed.
“You’re trying too hard.”
“I received conflicting advice.”
“From Arthur?”
“And several internet sources.”
“That explains the crisis.”
They went to a small restaurant.
Not expensive.
Not exclusive.
Dominic had reserved the entire place.
Clara discovered this after noticing no other customers.
“Dominic.”
“Security.”
“People normally attend restaurants with strangers.”
“Disturbing tradition.”
“Call them.”
“Who?”
“The customers.”
“You want me to invite strangers?”
“I want you to stop controlling everything.”
Twenty minutes later, the restaurant reopened.
Dominic looked deeply uncomfortable.
Clara enjoyed every second.
Over the next six months, they dated.
Properly.
Slowly.
Clara maintained her apartment.
Dominic never suggested otherwise.
They learned ordinary things about one another they somehow missed while married.
Dominic hated bananas.
Clara loved terrible reality television.
He woke at five thirty every morning.
She treated alarms as personal enemies.
He secretly enjoyed gardening.
She killed every plant she touched.
Ethan rebuilt the family company honestly.
Arthur retired approximately once every three weeks before returning because he was “bored.”
Grant’s investigation dismantled Victor’s network.
Samuel Croft accepted a plea agreement and provided testimony.
Victor also cooperated.
He would spend years in prison.
But before sentencing, he requested to speak with Clara.
She agreed.
Victor sat behind glass.
“You chose him.”
“Yes.”
“I once thought Daniel choosing Dominic meant he betrayed me.”
Clara waited.
“I understand now.”
“Understand what?”
“That sometimes the person you love refuses to become who you want because they are trying to become better.”
Clara thought of Dominic.
“Daniel wanted you to have a chance.”
Victor nodded.
“I wasted it.”
“You’re alive.”
He looked at her.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No. But it means the story isn’t over.”
Victor gave a small, sad smile.
“You really are the nurse from the alley.”
Clara left without hatred.
Not forgiveness exactly.
Something lighter.
An ending.
Outside, Dominic waited.
No questions.
He simply took her hand.
One year after the divorce, Clara drove with Dominic toward Jackson Boulevard.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“That phrase has historically been dangerous.”
“Trust me.”
“Also historically dangerous.”
He smiled.
They stopped beside the old clinic.
The Victor-controlled facility had closed.
Now renovations covered the building.
A new sign waited beneath a cloth.
Dominic handed Clara the rope.
She pulled.
MARY HAYES COMMUNITY MEDICAL CENTER
Clara stopped breathing.
Dominic watched nervously.
“It’s independent. Your name isn’t attached to any Rossi company. A nonprofit board controls everything. Free emergency care, training programs, mental health services, community outreach—”
Clara turned and hugged him.
Dominic exhaled.
“So you don’t hate it.”
She laughed through tears.
“No.”
“Good.”
She stepped back.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted one surprise.”
“You hate surprises.”
“I hate receiving them.”
Clara looked at her mother’s name.
The place where Victor once built a system for control would become somewhere people received help regardless of money.
The alley behind the building remained.
Clara walked there.
Dominic followed.
Rain began lightly.
She laughed.
“Ridiculous.”
“What?”
“The weather.”
Dominic looked up.
“Chicago approves.”
He reached into his pocket.
Clara immediately noticed.
“Dominic Rossi.”
“Yes?”
“If that is a ring—”
“It might be.”
“Are you proposing in the alley where you almost died?”
“When you phrase it like that, it sounds poorly considered.”
She laughed.
Dominic did not kneel yet.
Instead he held the closed box.
“I’m going to ask something.”
“Okay.”
“And this time, no debt.”
“Good.”
“No contract.”
“Better.”
“No obligation.”
Her eyes filled.
“And if you say no, I’ll survive.”
Clara touched his scar through his shirt.
“I know.”
Dominic opened the box.
A simple ring.
Different from the first.
His voice became quiet.
“Clara Hayes, will you choose me?”
She stared at him.
Then smiled.
But before answering, she closed the box.
Dominic looked confused.
“Problem?”
“One.”
“What?”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
His face fell.
Clara kissed him.
Then whispered:
“Ask me tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because I want one entire night to enjoy watching you panic.”
Dominic stared.
Clara walked toward the street laughing.
He followed.
“You are cruel.”
“You married me before. You should know.”
“Technically we divorced.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic smiled.
Tomorrow, she would answer.
May you like
And for once, both of them already knew exactly what that answer would be.
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