Chapter 9 - THE FAMILY
I pressed myself against the back wall of the safe room, shielding Lily entirely with my body.
I held up the silver rosary, my hand shaking violently.
“Dominic gave me this,” I yelled, my voice cracking with desperation. “He said under the old laws, I am untouchable! You have to let us go!”
Silvio threw his head back and laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound that echoed terribly in the small space.
“The old laws died with my brother,” Silvio sneered, raising his handgun and aiming it directly at my chest. “I don't care about a piece of jewelry. I want the brass key your pathetic husband stole for me. Give it to me, and I might let the child live.”
“She doesn't have it.”
The voice came from the shadows behind Silvio.
Silvio spun around, raising his weapon.
Dominic stepped out of the darkness of the hallway. He looked terrible—covered in dust, his suit torn, bleeding from his shoulder and a cut above his eye. But his gun was raised, and his hand was rock steady.
“It’s over, Silvio,” Dominic said, his voice cold and hollow. “Your men are dead. Marco is dead. The estate is secure.”
Silvio backed up, realizing he was trapped between Dominic and the safe room.
“You won't shoot me, Nicky,” Silvio said, using his childhood nickname, trying to invoke a twisted sense of family. “I’m your blood. We can make a deal. We’ll pin this on the Morettis. I’ll leave the country.”
“You’re right about one thing,” Dominic said, slowly lowering his gun. “I won't shoot you.”
Silvio smirked, lowering his own weapon slightly.
“Because they will,” Dominic finished.
Suddenly, the bedroom windows shattered inward. Bright tactical lights flooded the room, blinding us.
“FBI! Drop the weapon!”
Dozens of heavily armed federal agents swarmed through the broken windows and the hallway doors.
Silvio dropped his gun, his face completely pale as agents threw him to the floor, zip-tying his wrists.
I slumped against the wall of the safe room, the adrenaline finally leaving my body in a rush that made me dizzy.
Dominic holstered his weapon and walked slowly toward us. He knelt down in the doorway of the safe room, ignoring the chaos of the federal agents arresting his uncle behind him.
He looked at me, then at Lily, who was peeking out from behind my arm.
“Are you hurt?” he asked softly.
I shook my head, unable to speak through my tears.
“I called the feds hours ago,” Dominic explained gently. “When I found the torn photo. I emptied the vault and sent every ledger, every recording, every piece of evidence of Silvio’s betrayals to the FBI. He’s going away forever. The Morettis have been raided. It’s over, Emma.”
He reached out and gently touched Lily’s hair.
“You were very brave, little one.”
Lily sniffled, looking at his bloody arm. “Are you a superhero?”
Dominic smiled, a genuine, heartbreakingly beautiful smile. “No. Your mom is the superhero. She saved us both.”
Three months later.
The morning sun streamed through the sparkling clean windows of the newly renovated diner. The smell of fresh coffee and vanilla pancakes filled the air.
I wiped down the front counter, smiling as old Mr. Chen walked in and took his usual seat.
“Morning, boss,” Rosie smiled, tying her apron. She was no longer the owner; she was my head chef.
Dominic had bought the diner through a legitimate holding company and transferred the deed to my name. He said it wasn't a gift; it was the payment of a life debt. He had also set up a trust fund for Lily’s college education, ensuring Mark’s sacrifice to protect us wasn't in vain.
The bell above the door chimed.
I looked up.
Dominic walked in. He wasn't wearing his usual dark, intimidating suit. He wore a simple navy sweater and jeans. The heavy burden of the mafia crown seemed lighter on his shoulders now that the rot had been cleared from his family.
He sat at his usual booth in the back.
I poured a cup of coffee and walked over, sliding into the vinyl seat across from him.
“Table for one?” I asked softly.
May you like
Dominic took a sip of the coffee, his dark eyes meeting mine, filled with a warmth that I had grown to love over the past three months.
“Not anymore,” he said, reaching across the table to cover my hand with his. “Never again.”
