Chapter 6 - The Broken Glass
Dominic stood alone in his dark study for nearly an hour after Marco left.
The warmth that had filled his heart over the past few weeks felt like a cruel joke. He had let his guard down. He had allowed himself to soft-heartedly trust a woman, to believe that someone actually cared about his children and his broken life, only to find out she was a tactical maneuver by his enemies.
The rage that consumed him was far worse than the anger he had felt the day he caught her singing in the kitchen. This time, it was laced with a terrible, agonizing sense of betrayal.
He walked down the dim hallway toward the guest bedroom where Elena stayed. He didn't knock. He pushed the door open.
Elena was sitting at her small writing desk, writing a letter by the light of a small lamp. She jumped in surprise, turning around quickly to face him.
“Dominic?” she asked, using his first name for the first time, her voice soft and concerned. “What’s wrong? Is one of the girls sick?”
Dominic tossed the manila folder onto her bed. The photographs spilled out across the white duvet.
“Explain these,” he commanded, his voice dropping into a register that made the room feel twenty degrees colder.
Elena froze. Her eyes swept over the surveillance photographs of herself and her brother. Her face drained of all color, turning a ghostly white.
“Dominic... I can explain,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“You lied to me,” Dominic stepped forward, his eyes blazing with fury. “You came into my house, you wormed your way into my daughters' lives, you made them trust you—you made me trust you—and all the while, you were reporting to the Morettis?”
“No!” Elena cried out, tears instantly filling her eyes. She stood up, taking a step toward him, but Dominic held up a hand to stop her. “It’s not like that! I swear to God, Dominic, I never spied on you! I never gave them any information about your house or your business!”
“Then why are you meeting Mateo Vasquez in a back alley in Queens?” Dominic roared, stepping closer, towering over her. “He works for the family that tried to ruin my business!”
“He is my brother!” Elena sobbed, wiping her face with her trembling hands. “He is my only living relative! I didn't know he was involved with those terrible people until six months ago. He got into heavy gambling debt, Dominic! The Morettis owned his life!”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with absolute desperation and truth.
“Mateo found out I got a job as a housekeeper in your house,” she continued through her sobs. “He tried to make me leak your security codes and your schedule. He threatened to kill my brother if I didn't help him! But I refused! That photo you have—that was me telling him I would never, ever hurt you or those little girls! I was begging him to run away!”
Dominic stared at her. The agony in her voice was real. The sheer terror in her eyes was unmistakable. But in his world, trust was a luxury that killed men.
“You brought my family into danger,” Dominic said softly, though every word felt like a knife in his own throat. “You kept this from me. You let my children love you, knowing who your brother was.”
“I fell in love with them!” Elena shouted, taking a bold step toward him, her tears spilling freely down her cheeks. “I loved Lucia, Valentina, and Mia from the very first day! And I... I care about you, Dominic! I stayed to protect them from my brother’s mistakes!”
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Dominic closed his eyes. His heart was screaming at him to believe her, to take her into his arms and comfort her. But the cold, logical mob boss inside his head took command.
“Pack your bags, Elena,” Dominic said coldly, refusing to look at her again. “You have ten minutes to leave my estate. If I ever see your face near my children again, I won't care who your brother is.”
