Chapter 10 - ELEANOR COLLAPSED AGAIN, AND THIS TIME HANNAH COULD NOT SAVE HER ALONE
Two years after the poisoned wine, Eleanor collapsed at Sunday lunch.
No poison.
No Vanessa.
No conspiracy.
Her heart simply failed.
One moment she was arguing that Dominic’s pasta sauce needed more salt.
The next, her fork slipped.
Hannah saw first.
“Eleanor?”
No response.
Dominic stood.
Hannah checked pulse.
“Call 911.”
He did.
No breathing normally.
Hannah began CPR.
Dominic froze.
For half a second.
Then she looked at him.
“AED.”
The house had one now.
Of course.
Walter brought it.
Pads.
Shock advised.
Everyone clear.
Shock.
CPR.
Dominic knelt beside his mother’s body counting compressions because Hannah told him.
Not mafia boss.
Not son with money.
Hands.
Numbers.
Ambulance arrived.
Return of spontaneous circulation before transport.
At hospital, cardiologists diagnosed ventricular arrhythmia related to progressive structural heart disease.
No toxin.
No one to arrest.
Dominic hated it.
Hannah sat beside him in the waiting room.
“She did everything right.”
He stared.
“Who?”
“Her.”
“Her body?”
“Yes.”
“It still failed.”
“For a minute.”
He looked at Hannah.
“I could lose her anyway.”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
No false reassurance.
“She survived Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“And now this.”
“Yes.”
“Why does that make me angrier?”
“Because you can’t fight it.”
There.
Money.
Violence.
Control.
None could negotiate with age.
Eleanor received an implantable cardioverter-defibrillator.
Recovery slow.
She complained continuously.
Excellent sign.
Then she demanded to speak with Hannah privately.
Hannah entered.
Eleanor said:
“Marry my son.”
Hannah nearly left.
“Absolutely not.”
“I almost died.”
“That does not grant wishes.”
“It should.”
“No.”
Eleanor smiled.
“Good.”
Then:
“I needed to know guilt wouldn’t make you say yes.”
Hannah stared.
“Manipulative.”
“I raised Dominic.”
“Clearly.”
Then Eleanor became serious.
“He loves you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
First time she said it aloud to anyone.
Eleanor smiled.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
“I am not waiting for him to become perfect.”
“Impossible.”
“I’m watching whether the changes stay when nobody rewards him.”
Eleanor’s eyes softened.
“That’s wise.”
“And?”
Hannah sat.
“I’m scared.”
“Of him?”
“No.”
“His world?”
“Less now.”
“Then?”
“Of building a family and losing it.”
Eleanor took her hand.
“Thomas?”
“My mother.”
“My career.”
“Every time I’ve trusted something permanent, it changed.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Everything permanent changes.”
“Not helpful.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“True.”
Then:
“Dominic’s problem is believing enough control prevents loss.”
“Yours may be believing enough independence prevents grief.”
Hannah went quiet.
Annoying family.
Later, she found Dominic outside the hospital.
Snow.
He stood alone.
“You okay?”
“No.”
She walked beside him.
“Good.”
He almost smiled.
Then:
“I thought after Vanessa went away, Mother was safe.”
“She was safer.”
“Not immortal.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Come home with me.”
Hannah froze.
Dominic immediately corrected.
“Not move in.”
“I mean tonight.”
“Dinner.”
“Sit with me.”
“If you want.”
She smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
At his house, no ballroom.
No guests.
Walter had gone home.
Dominic made terrible eggs at midnight.
Hannah laughed.
“You own restaurants.”
“I don’t cook in them.”
“Clearly.”
They ate in the kitchen.
Then silence.
Dominic said:
“I love you.”
Hannah stopped.
No proposal.
No leverage.
“I know.”
“That is a terrible answer.”
She laughed.
Then:
“I love you too.”
His face changed.
Hannah continued.
“And I’m still keeping my apartment.”
“Fine.”
“My job.”
“Obviously.”
“I’m not becoming your mother’s nurse.”
“She’ll be devastated.”
“And if we ever live together, I need legal protection around my finances.”
“Prenup?”
“If marriage.”
“Cohabitation agreement before.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
Hannah stared.
“You’re disturbingly easy.”
“Therapy.”
“You go?”
“Twice a month.”
She nearly dropped her fork.
“What?”
“Marcus says I’m less terrifying.”
“I want your therapist’s number.”
He laughed.
Then the night turned quiet.
They did not need more.
Three months later, Eleanor returned home.
Hannah did not move into the estate.
Good.
Dominic visited her apartment.
Small.
Warm.
Books everywhere.
One framed photo of Thomas Reed in firefighter uniform.
Dominic stared.
Hannah noticed.
“You can ask.”
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
“Does seeing me beside his picture bother you?”
She thought.
“Sometimes.”
Honest.
“Does loving me feel like betraying him?”
“Sometimes.”
That hurt.
She continued.
“Then I remember Dad helped people he didn’t approve of all the time.”
“Patients.”
“Strangers.”
“He understood a person is more than the worst group they belong to.”
Dominic nodded.
“And?”
“And you are leaving the worst parts.”
“I’m trying.”
“Yes.”
“That matters.”
Then Dominic said:
“I don’t want his death to be the reason you forgive me for things I haven’t earned forgiveness for.”
Hannah stared.
“Good.”
They kissed.
A year passed.
Moretti Shipping became fully auditable under outside compliance.
Dominic still knew dangerous men.
Some feared him.
But fear was no longer a management system.
He lost money.
A lot.
Eleanor called it “the world’s most expensive personality improvement.”
Hannah loved that.
Then Dominic received an offer to sell Moretti Shipping to a multinational logistics company.
He would remain chairman.
Less operational control.
More distance from old dock networks.
He asked Hannah:
“What do you think?”
She stared.
“Are you asking my permission?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“What do you think?”
“I think you should decide whether you want to be Dominic Moretti without needing an empire to prove the name means something.”
His chest tightened.
“That’s rude.”
“Yes.”
He sold sixty percent.
Kept investments.
Stepped back.
Not because Hannah demanded.
Because he wanted a life where one emergency did not summon thirty armed men before an ambulance.
Then, six months later, he asked her another question.
This one with a ring.
But not yet.
First, he did something harder.
He visited Thomas Reed’s grave alone.
No flowers worth a fortune.
Simple white daisies.
He stood.
“I’m not paying you back.”
Wind.
Nothing.
“I finally understand.”
More silence.
“I can’t.”
He looked at the stone.
“But I can stop making other families pay for the way I learned power.”
Then he left.
No sign from heaven.
No absolution.
Good.
May you like
The next evening, he went to Hannah.
And asked whether she wanted to build something with him that neither of them could purchase in advance.
