Chapter 6 - THE MORNING AFTER
The sun came up over Lake Michigan like a slow bruise, painting the Chicago skyline in shades of bruised purple, slate gray, and pale, cold gold.
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Dominic.
While the federal marshals and Dominic’s elite legal team raided Victoria’s safe-deposit boxes downtown and seized Julian’s penthouse apartments, I sat in the vast, silent library of the DeLuca mansion, wrapped in a cashmere throw blanket, sipping black coffee from a porcelain cup that didn't taste half as good as the coffee from my mother’s old green Thermos.
The door creaked open.
Dominic walked in. He had finally taken off his suit jacket. His white dress shirt was wrinkled at the cuffs, his silver hair slightly messy, but the heavy, crushing weight that had stooped his shoulders the night before seemed to have lifted just a fraction, replaced by the relentless, cold focus of a general reorganizing his troops after a battle.
"They're locked out," Dominic said quietly, walking over to the leather armchair across from mine and sitting down. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Victoria’s accounts are frozen. Julian’s sports cars are impounded at a impound lot in Cicero. By noon, neither of them will have a credit card that clears at a gas station."
"And Uncle Ray?" I asked softly.
Dominic stared into the empty fireplace for a long moment before answering. "He’s gone back to his house in Evanston. I told him if I ever see his face again, it'll be too soon. But I didn't send the enforcers after him. Let him live with what he did. That’s a heavier prison than any basement vault I own."
I nodded slowly, looking down at my coffee cup. "My mother... she loved him, didn't she?"
"She loved the idea of him," Dominic corrected gently, leaning forward. "She loved the boy I was before the streets made me hard. But when I had to choose between the empire and her... I walked away because I thought I was protecting her from my enemies. I was too arrogant to realize that the greatest danger to her life wasn't the syndicate—it was the man she trusted with her heart."
He reached across the small mahogany coffee table and gently touched my wrist.
"And you, Caroline. Twenty-one years waiting tables in Milwaukee. Raising a daughter alone. Paying your mother's medical bills while my brother sat on millions of dollars two hours down I-94."
"We survived," I said, a faint, proud smile touching my lips. "My mother taught me how to stretch twenty dollars across a weekend. She taught me how to stand up to people who think a nice dress makes them better than everyone else."
Dominic’s eyes shone with unshed tears. "She raised a strong woman. Much stronger than her father ever was."
"She didn't want bitterness, Dominic," I said, using his first name for the very first time. It felt strange on my tongue, yet completely natural. "She just wanted the truth out in the open before she died. That's why she made me bring the Thermos."
He chuckled softly, a warm, genuine sound that chased the cold shadows out of the library. "Rosie always was smarter than all of us combined. She knew a scratched piece of metal would bring down a kingdom faster than a Tommy gun."
Just then, the heavy oak library door swung open wide.
Standing in the doorway, wearing her favorite denim jacket and clutching a travel mug of hot chocolate, was twenty-two-year-old Maya—my daughter.
She looked back and forth between Dominic and me, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock, confusion, and teenage skepticism.
"Mom," Maya said, her voice echoing in the vast room. "I got your text at three in the morning about the mafia boss grandfather and the stolen inheritance... but I honestly thought you were hallucinating from lack of sleep."
I looked at Dominic.
May you like
Dominic stood up slowly, squaring his broad shoulders, his silver hair catching the morning light through the tall stained-glass windows. He looked at my daughter—his granddaughter—with a fierce, protective intensity that brooked no argument.
"Come in, sweetheart," Dominic said, his voice rich and steady. "Let your grandfather buy you breakfast."
