Chapter 7 - The Confession in the Rain
Dominic didn’t wait for me to find my voice. He reached into the back of the Maybach, his long, powerful fingers gently wrapping around my wrist—not with violence, but with an unbreakable, possessive grip that commanded complete submission.
“Step out of the car, Clara,” he commanded softly, leaving zero room for debate.
With trembling legs, I scooped Lily up into my arms, keeping her small body shielded against my chest, and stepped out onto the wet, freezing concrete of the dockyard.
The cold rain instantly plastered my hair to my forehead, but I barely felt it. My entire focus was locked entirely on Vince Russo, who was now being yanked to his feet by Marco Bellini, his hands tightly secured behind his back with industrial zip-ties.
Vince’s wild, terrified eyes flicked from Marco to Dominic, finally landing squarely on me.
“Clara! Tell this psycho to let me go!” Vince shrieked, struggling violently against Marco’s iron grip. “She’s got the book! The ledger! She stole it right out of the safe the night her old man died!”
“Shut your mouth,” Marco barked, driving the back of his hand sharply across Vince’s cheek, cutting off the rest of his hysterical screaming.
Dominic slowly turned his head, his dark, calculating gaze shifting deliberately from Vince back to my pale, panic-stricken face.
The silence between us was heavier than the gray sky hanging over the river.
“A ledger,” Dominic murmured, tasting the word slowly on his tongue as if savoring a bitter glass of wine. “Tell me, Clara. Is my estate currently serving as a hiding spot for stolen property that happens to interest half the criminal underworld in the Midwest?”
Tears finally broke free from my eyes, hot and bitter, mixing with the cold rainwater streaming down my cheeks.
“I didn't mean to steal it,” I sobbed, my voice breaking completely as I clutched Lily tighter. “My father... my father was trapped in their debt network. The night he died of a heart attack, I found that book in his workshop. It had names, signatures, bank routing numbers—everything they used to ruin him and dozens of other families. I grabbed it because I thought it was the only way to protect my sister, Emma. But I didn't know it was still in the bottom lining of my old luggage when I got the job here. I swear to God, Mr. Moretti, I never opened it. I never used it to blackmail anyone.”
Dominic listened in absolute, unblinking silence. His face gave away nothing—no anger, no pity, no relief. Just the cold, terrifying calculation of a man who weighed human lives on an invisible scale every single day.
“You brought a targeted threat directly into my home,” Dominic said slowly, his voice dropping into a register so dangerously quiet that even Marco instinctively stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out, dropping my gaze to the wet concrete in utter defeat, ready for whatever punishment he deemed appropriate. “Fire me. Throw us out on the street. Do whatever you want to me. Just... please don’t let them hurt Lily.”
Lily, sensing my distress, suddenly reached out a tiny hand from my shoulder and gently patted Dominic’s dark woolen sleeve.
“Don’t be mean to Mommy,” my daughter scolded the mafia boss earnestly. “She has a tummy ache.”
Dominic looked down at her small hand resting against his coat.
May you like
A heavy, agonizing second ticked by. Then, slowly, Dominic reached out.
Instead of pushing us away, his large, calloused hand gently cupped the back of Lily’s head, pressing her face securely into my shoulder away from the violent scene.
