Chapter 8 - THE NURSING STUDENT
Isabella crumpled to her knees, clutching her bruised wrist and screaming in agony.
Before she could reach for the lighter again, Dominic’s guards swarmed the porch. They pinned Isabella to the wet stone, securing her arms behind her back despite her frantic, unhinged thrashing.
“Get her off my property,” Dominic commanded, his voice cold and absolute. “Hand her over to the police. Tell them she attempted arson and attempted murder. Let the Romanos try to bail her out of that.”
The guards dragged the screaming, cursing heiress down the driveway, throwing her into the back of a black SUV. The vehicle sped away into the stormy night, taking the Romano poison out of our lives forever.
The immediate danger was gone, but the heavy scent of gasoline still choked the air.
Dominic holstered his weapon. He didn't look at the retreating car. He looked down at his older brother.
Anthony was still on his knees on the wet marble floor, staring at the plastic sleeve holding the train ticket. The physical proof of his greatest failure.
Slowly, footsteps echoed down the grand hallway.
Clara walked out from the safety of the back corridors. Caroline was leaning heavily on her arm. They had heard everything Isabella screamed.
Clara stopped a few feet away from Anthony. The young nursing student looked down at the broken mafia prince.
“You bought a ticket,” Clara said, her voice completely devoid of anger. It was just profoundly sad.
Anthony couldn't look up at her. “I wanted to go with her, Clara. I loved your mother. But Sofia Romano told me that if I got on that train, her hitmen would derail it. I thought... I thought staying behind was the only way to ensure Caroline lived.”
Caroline let out a soft, tired sigh.
“You didn't stay to save my life, Anthony,” Caroline said gently, the bitterness finally draining from her voice, leaving only exhaustion. “You stayed because you were nineteen years old and terrified of losing your family’s protection. You were a boy in a man’s world.”
Anthony finally looked up, his face drenched in rain and tears. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Caroline looked at him for a long time. The silence stretched, heavy with twenty-six years of pain, poverty, and secrets.
“I forgave you a long time ago, Anthony,” Caroline said softly. “Holding onto the anger was too heavy. But forgiveness doesn't mean we can go back. You made your choice that night at the station.”
Caroline gently patted Clara’s arm. “And because of your choice, I made mine. I gave Clara to the best mother in the world.”
Clara looked at me, tears brimming in her beautiful eyes. She let go of Caroline’s arm and walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist just like she did when she was a little girl scared of thunderstorms.
“I love you, Mom,” Clara whispered into my shoulder.
“I love you too, baby,” I choked out, kissing the top of her head.
Dominic stepped forward. The intimidating boss looked softer now, the burden of his father’s sins finally lifted from his shoulders.
He reached down and picked up the silver pocket watch Evelyn had thrown. He wiped the rainwater off the dented casing.
“Evelyn,” Dominic said, walking over to the elderly seamstress who was still standing fiercely in the hallway. “You have a remarkable throwing arm.”
Evelyn offered a small, proud smile. “My late husband was a pitcher for the minor leagues, Mr. Dominic. He taught me a few things.”
Dominic smiled—a genuine, warm smile that transformed his entire face.
He held out his arm to the elderly woman. “May I escort you back to the dining room, Mrs. Parker? I believe we have a memorial dinner to finish. And a quilt to return to its rightful owner.”
Evelyn’s eyes welled with happy tears. She took the mafia boss’s arm, and together, they walked back into the warmth of the house.
The staff, realizing the danger had passed, slowly filed back into the foyer from the rear exits. Armed guards began laying down towels to soak up the gasoline.
The estate was coming back to life, breathing easier without Isabella’s toxic presence.
Dominic turned back to look at us. At his brother still kneeling on the floor, at Caroline leaning on her cane, and at Clara and me holding onto each other.
“Patricia,” Dominic called out gently.
The elderly aunt stepped forward, her eyes shining with relief.
“Have the guest wing prepared,” Dominic ordered. “Caroline is not returning to Boston. She will stay here, under my personal protection, for as long as she wishes.”
Caroline looked at Dominic in shock. “Mr. Moretti, I couldn't possibly impose—”
“You are not imposing, Caroline,” Dominic interrupted softly. “You are family. And this house owes you twenty-six years of hospitality.”
Dominic then looked at me.
“Helen,” he said, his voice filled with deep respect. “You are officially retired. Effective immediately.”
I blinked, momentarily panicked. “Retired? But Mr. Dominic, Clara’s nursing school tuition—”
“Is paid in full as of tomorrow morning,” Dominic stated firmly. “You have spent twenty-nine years taking care of this family, Helen. It is time this family took care of you. You will have a pension that matches my captains', and you will never scrub another floor in your life.”
A sob of pure relief tore from my throat. Clara hugged me tighter, both of us crying tears of joy. The weight of decades of financial terror simply vanished.
Dominic looked at Clara last.
“Clara,” Dominic said, his dark eyes filled with a fierce, protective warmth. “Tomorrow, I will have the lawyers execute my mother’s real will. The estate, the trust, the businesses—they belong to you. But tonight, I just want my niece to sit at my dinner table.”
Clara looked at the powerful mafia boss, then at her biological father on the floor, and finally at the mother who had raised her.
May you like
She took a deep breath, wiping her tears, and offered Dominic a bright, beautiful smile.
“I’d like that, Uncle Dominic,” Clara said.
