Chapter 11 - The Final Stitch
“What is that?” Salvatore gasped from the floor, clutching his broken legs.
Dominic didn’t look at him. He opened the manila envelope and pulled out a stack of old, faded photographs and bank ledgers.
I stood beside him, holding my breath as he flipped through the documents.
They were wire transfer receipts, offshore account numbers, and surveillance photos. But they weren’t showing the Bellinis.
They showed Don Genovese.
“My uncle Frank was a thorough man,” Dominic said, his voice laced with a profound, bitter respect. “He knew that one day, my real father might come looking for me. So he spent twenty years gathering insurance.”
He held up a photograph showing Don Genovese shaking hands with a known federal prosecutor.
“The head of the Commission is a federal informant,” Dominic announced, the shock of the revelation echoing in the grand foyer.
Salvatore’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. “No. No, my uncle would never rat. He’s the boss of bosses!”
“He’s a coward who sells out his rivals to keep his throne,” Dominic corrected, dropping the photos onto Salvatore’s chest. “Frank knew it. And now I know it.”
Dominic looked at the birth certificate in his hand, then at the blackmail files.
For the first time all night, Dominic seemed truly at peace. The chaotic storm of betrayal, blood, and secrets had finally settled into a crystal-clear path forward.
He didn’t want to be a Genovese. He didn’t want the bloody throne of the Commission.
He wanted to be free.
“Get up,” Dominic ordered Salvatore, stepping back.
Salvatore groaned, struggling to his feet, leaning heavily against the banister.
“I’m giving you a message to deliver to my father,” Dominic said coldly. “You go back to Don Genovese. You tell him that Dominic Moretti knows the truth about his bloodline. And you tell him I have the evidence of his federal cooperation.”
Salvatore swallowed hard, nodding furiously. “Okay. Okay, I’ll tell him.”
“But you also tell him this,” Dominic stepped closer, his dark eyes boring into Salvatore’s terrified soul. “I don’t want his empire. I don’t want his seat at the table. I am keeping the Brooklyn Ports, and I am taking my syndicate legitimate.”
Salvatore looked confused. “Legitimate?”
“No more drugs. No more hits. No more Commission,” Dominic said firmly. “If Don Genovese agrees to leave me and my people completely alone, I will burn these files and he can keep his throne. But if he sends one single soldier into my territory…”
Dominic raised the heavy assault rifle he had dropped earlier and pointed it at Salvatore’s face.
“…I will send these files to the other four families, and they will butcher him in the street. Do we have a deal?”
Salvatore didn’t hesitate. He knew his uncle’s survival depended entirely on this truce.
“We have a deal,” Salvatore rasped, raising his hands. “I swear on my life, the Genovese family will never cross into your territory again.”
“Then get out of my house,” Dominic commanded.
Salvatore limped out of the shattered front doors, disappearing into the rainy night, leaving behind a trail of blood and the shattered remains of the old mafia hierarchy.
The moment the doors closed, the adrenaline finally left Dominic’s body.
He dropped the rifle. He swayed slightly, leaning against the marble banister for support. The cuts on his face were bleeding again, and his expensive suit was completely ruined.
I walked over to him, gently wrapping my arms around his waist to keep him steady.
“It’s over, Dominic,” I whispered, resting my head against his chest. “You did it. You’re free.”
Dominic wrapped his arms around me, holding me tighter than he ever had. He buried his face in my hair, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
“We did it,” he corrected softly.
He pulled back, looking down into my eyes. The cold, ruthless boss was gone. The frightened, betrayed son was gone. Standing in front of me was just a man who had finally found something real.
“Rachel,” Dominic said, his voice thick with emotion. “I have spent my entire life surrounded by people who only wanted to use me. Victoria, the Commission, my own father. But you… you stood between me and a bullet. You hit a man with a skillet to protect my secrets.”
I let out a wet, exhausted laugh. “It was a very heavy skillet.”
Dominic smiled, reaching up to gently wipe a smudge of soot from my cheek.
“I asked you to be my estate manager tonight,” Dominic said quietly. “But I think I aimed too low.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet ring box. The one Frank had brought with him.
It didn’t hold a photograph anymore.
Dominic opened it. Inside rested a simple, stunning gold band with a single, perfect diamond.
“It was my mother’s ring,” Dominic whispered. “Frank gave it to me when I turned eighteen. I was saving it for the right woman. Victoria demanded a massive, gaudy rock, so I bought her one. I kept this hidden.”
He looked at me, his dark eyes filled with absolute, unwavering devotion.
“I don’t want a business merger, Rachel. I don’t want a mafia princess. I want a partner. I want a woman who isn’t afraid of the dark.”
He took the ring out of the box and held it up.
“Will you marry me, Rachel? For real?”
I looked at the beautiful, simple ring. I looked at the man who had burned down an empire to protect the people he loved.
Tears spilled over my eyelashes.
“Yes,” I smiled, my voice cracking with pure joy. “Yes, Dominic.”
He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
Then, he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t a frantic, adrenaline-fueled kiss. It was slow, deep, and filled with a profound promise of forever.
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We pulled apart, both of us smiling through our tears.
“Come on,” Dominic said, taking my hand. “Let’s clean up our house.”
