Chapter 3 - DOMINIC ARRIVED AT THE WEDDING AS SOPHIA’S “FRIEND,” BUT HER DYING MOTHER ALREADY KNEW WHO HE WAS
They left for Pennsylvania before sunrise.
Sophia drove none of the way.
Not because Dominic ordered it.
Because after the threatening photograph, her hands would not stop shaking.
The reinforced black SUV looked ordinary enough.
Mostly.
Three security officers traveled separately.
Dominic sat in the front passenger seat.
Sophia and Lily sat behind him.
Dominic had changed the waterfront meeting again.
Not canceled.
Moved to a secure video session with Marco representing his interests.
Victor Romano was furious.
Dominic apparently considered that Victor Romano’s emotional problem.
Sophia considered Dominic being physically present both reassuring and deeply irritating.
He had not technically invited himself.
After the threat, she had asked:
“What happens if you stay in Chicago?”
Dominic answered:
“I spend six hours wondering whether someone is trying to reach me through your family.”
She had looked at him.
Then:
“Come.”
That single word changed the entire weekend.
Lily considered it an official romantic victory.
She spent the first hour explaining Pennsylvania geography incorrectly.
“Grandma lives by mountains.”
There were hills.
“Aunt Emily has a castle wedding.”
It was a renovated stone inn.
“Mommy used to ride horses.”
Sophia had ridden one pony at age nine.
Dominic listened as though intelligence agencies might later test him.
Eventually Lily fell asleep.
Sophia looked toward the front.
“You don’t have to answer everything she asks.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“She will ask whether you have children.”
“I don’t.”
“Whether you want them.”
Dominic went quiet.
Sophia regretted mentioning it.
Then he answered:
“I don’t know.”
Honest.
Better.
“She’ll ask why you aren’t married.”
“I’ll tell her I never found somebody willing to tolerate me.”
Sophia almost smiled.
“That may be the first completely believable thing you’ve said.”
Dominic turned slightly.
“I’m charming.”
“You terrify delivery drivers.”
“Efficient.”
The conversation faded.
Two hours later, Dominic said:
“Sophia.”
“Yes?”
“Who is Lily’s father?”
She went still.
There it was.
A boundary.
A legitimate question perhaps.
Still hers.
“Why?”
“If someone pulled your file, they may look for every relative.”
“He isn’t involved.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
Sophia stared out the window.
“No.”
Dominic waited.
She added:
“You don’t need it yet.”
He looked forward.
“All right.”
No pressure.
That mattered.
Her daughter’s father was Daniel Reeves.
A man Sophia had loved at twenty-three.
He disappeared from their lives when Lily was eleven months old after deciding fatherhood interfered with the life he wanted.
He sent occasional money until Sophia told him to stop using transfers as substitutes for calls.
Lily knew only that her father lived far away and was not part of their household.
Sophia hated discussing him.
Especially with another powerful man.
They reached Harrisburg County shortly before noon.
Margaret Carter’s farmhouse sat behind bare maple trees with white ribbons tied along the porch for Emily’s wedding.
Sophia had barely opened the SUV door when her mother appeared.
Thin.
Head wrapped in a burgundy scarf.
Oxygen tubing beneath her nose.
Still somehow commanding the entire porch.
“Sophia!”
She came down two steps before everyone shouted:
“Mom!”
Margaret stopped.
Annoyed.
“I have cancer, not stupidity.”
Sophia rushed forward anyway.
They embraced.
For a few seconds, Dominic looked away.
Lily launched herself at Margaret.
“Grandma!”
Margaret’s entire face transformed.
“There’s my troublemaker.”
Lily whispered loudly:
“I brought Mommy a boyfriend.”
Sophia closed her eyes.
Emily, standing in the doorway in curlers and a bridal robe, screamed:
“You did what?”
Dominic stepped out of the SUV.
Silence spread across the porch.
Emily stared.
Margaret stared.
Sophia considered moving to Canada.
“This is Dominic.”
She said.
Margaret’s eyes narrowed.
“Moretti.”
Sophia looked sharply at her mother.
Dominic became still.
“You know who I am.”
Margaret studied him.
Then:
“You have Isabella’s eyes.”
Everything changed.
Sophia stared.
“Mom?”
Dominic walked closer.
“You knew my mother?”
Margaret’s expression softened.
“I was one of her hospice nurses.”
Silence.
Dominic stopped halfway up the path.
Sophia felt suddenly foolish.
Four years working for him.
Never once knowing her mother had treated Isabella Moretti.
“You never told me.”
Sophia whispered.
Margaret looked at her.
“You didn’t ask.”
“That is not a defense.”
“It works for men.”
Emily made a strangled sound trying not to laugh.
Dominic did not.
He was staring at Margaret.
“When?”
“Last six weeks.”
His face tightened.
“You were there the day she died?”
“Yes.”
Dominic went completely still.
Sophia knew the story.
Eight minutes late.
Now the woman who had been there stood ten feet away.
Margaret’s voice softened.
“She talked about you constantly.”
Dominic looked down.
“Mostly complaints.”
Margaret smiled.
“That sounds right.”
For the first time since arriving, his composure cracked.
Barely.
Then Margaret looked toward Sophia.
“You never told me your employer was Isabella’s boy.”
“Your dying mother did not seem like the appropriate audience for workplace gossip.”
“I would have enjoyed it.”
Then Margaret looked back at Dominic.
“Come inside before you all freeze.”
Dominic hesitated.
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
“Do mafia bosses need formal invitations to kitchens?”
Emily whispered:
“Oh my God, Mom.”
Dominic actually smiled.
“Apparently.”
Inside, chaos returned.
Wedding flowers.
Casseroles.
Children.
Relatives arriving.
Nobody knew what to do with Dominic.
That amused Margaret.
She gave him a mug of coffee herself.
One of Dominic’s security men almost intercepted it.
Margaret stared him down.
“He’s survived this long.”
The guard retreated.
Sophia had never loved her mother more.
Then Aunt Carol arrived.
Margaret’s sister.
She took one look at Dominic and whispered:
“Sophia.”
“No.”
“Is that—”
“Yes.”
“Are you dating him?”
“No.”
Lily shouted from the floor:
“Not yet!”
Sophia wanted the house to collapse.
Dominic drank his coffee.
Coward.
Later, while Emily attended rehearsal at the inn, Margaret asked Dominic to sit with her on the porch.
Sophia almost followed.
Her mother stopped her.
“Private.”
“Mom.”
“I’m dying.”
“You can’t keep using that.”
“Watch me.”
Dominic gave Sophia a look.
She hated that he appeared entertained.
They sat outside.
Margaret wrapped herself in a blanket.
For several minutes she studied him.
“You blame yourself.”
Dominic did not pretend confusion.
“For what?”
“Eight minutes.”
His face hardened.
Margaret continued.
“Your mother knew you were coming.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was late.”
“She knew why.”
Dominic looked toward the yard.
“She asked me to sit with her.”
“She did.”
“I chose business.”
Margaret’s voice became firmer.
“Listen carefully.”
“Isabella was dying whether you attended that meeting or not.”
“You were twenty-eight.”
“Running an empire your father left in chaos.”
“You thought one meeting mattered.”
“It did matter.”
“Just not more than she did.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“That sounds like agreement.”
“It is.”
He looked at her.
Margaret smiled sadly.
“Forgiveness built on lies doesn’t hold.”
“You made a bad choice.”
“You did not cause her death.”
Both things can be true.”
Dominic said nothing.
Margaret continued.
“She wasn’t angry.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she spent her last ten minutes worrying you would become a man who thought guilt was the same thing as love.”
That hit him.
Hard.
“She said that?”
“Not exactly.”
“She was on morphine.”
“She said, ‘My son will turn this into a punishment and call it devotion.’”
Dominic laughed once.
Broken.
“That sounds like her.”
Margaret reached into the pocket of her cardigan.
A small envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
Dominic stopped breathing.
“She gave me this.”
“Why do you have it?”
“Because when you arrived after she died, your people filled the house.”
“Someone from your father’s old crew ordered all personal items turned over.”
“I didn’t trust him.”
“Who?”
Margaret looked at him.
“Victor Romano.”
Dominic’s face changed.
“He was there?”
“Yes.”
“He said your mother had discussed business documents before death.”
“She hadn’t.”
“So I kept the letter.”
“For fifteen years?”
“I tried twice to send it.”
“Both times it came back.”
“Then life happened.”
“My husband got sick.”
“Sophia had Lily.”
“Eventually I convinced myself the past should stay buried.”
Dominic held the envelope.
His name.
Isabella’s handwriting.
Hands that could order violence without trembling shook slightly.
He opened it.
The note was short.
DOMINIC, IF YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE BETWEEN A ROOM FULL OF MEN WHO SAY THEY NEED YOU AND ONE PERSON WHO LOVES YOU, REMEMBER THIS: POWER WILL ALWAYS TELL YOU IT CANNOT WAIT. LOVE USUALLY DOESN’T GET THAT LUXURY. DON’T LEARN THIS TOO LATE.
Dominic closed his eyes.
Margaret watched him.
Then said:
“Apparently my granddaughter decided you needed the lesson again.”
He laughed through tears.
Inside the house, Sophia stood behind the curtain.
She had not meant to listen.
She had heard enough.
Then Dominic’s phone vibrated.
He read the message.
All softness vanished.
Margaret noticed.
“What?”
Dominic stood.
“The man who accessed Sophia’s personnel file used a security credential registered to someone on my Pennsylvania detail.”
Sophia stepped through the door.
“Who?”
Dominic looked at her.
May you like
“One of the three men I brought to protect you.”
The threat had traveled with them.
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