Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT COSTA’S MEN CAME FOR DOMINIC, CLARA MADE HIM CALL THE POLICE
The attack on Dominic happened five months after Clara left rehabilitation.
No ballroom.
No bullets.
At first.
A warehouse fire in Red Hook.
One of Rossi Logistics’ legitimate storage facilities.
Sprinklers failed in one section.
Security found accelerant.
Two guards injured from smoke.
No deaths.
Dominic knew immediately what he wanted.
Retaliation.
Clara knew immediately because Enzo called her.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because he listens to you.”
“That is a terrible reason.”
“Clara.”
“What is he doing?”
Silence.
“Enzo.”
“He left.”
“With who?”
“Two cars.”
“Police?”
“No.”
Clara closed eyes.
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Then why call?”
“To talk him down.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
She hung up.
Called Dominic.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Third.
He picked up.
“Clara.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Lie better.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“You know.”
“Enzo called.”
Dominic cursed.
“Fire.”
“Yes.”
“Costa?”
“Likely.”
“Likely.”
Clara emphasized.
“Did you learn nothing from me?”
“This is different.”
“Everybody says that before same mistake.”
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“Two of my men are in hospital.”
“Then help them.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re driving somewhere angry.”
Silence.
“Where?”
“Clara.”
“Are you going to hurt someone?”
Long pause.
“That depends.”
Wrong.
“No.”
“What?”
“I said no.”
“You don’t control me.”
“Correct.”
She breathed.
“But if you make me family and then use family pain as permission to become exactly what Costa expects, I get to tell you what I think.”
Dominic said nothing.
Clara continued:
“You think violence proves you protect people.”
“It prevents next attack.”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you know who ordered fire?”
“We have information.”
“Evidence enough for police?”
“Not yet.”
“Then enough for revenge?”
He went silent.
That landed.
Clara looked around her tiny apartment.
Nursing books.
Medication.
Scars.
She remembered ballroom.
Dominic shouting.
Power turning cold.
“If you do something tonight,” she said, “I will not call it protection.”
“Clara.”
“I will call it choice.”
Silence.
“And if your choice puts more people in danger, I won’t defend you because we share blood.”
Long pause.
Then road noise stopped.
Dominic had pulled over.
“What do you want me to do?”
She hated question.
Not because answer unclear.
Because he was still making her responsible for his morality.
“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t tell you.”
He exhaled sharply.
“You called to stop me.”
“I called to remind you the decision belongs to you.”
“That is infuriating.”
“Good.”
Then:
“Call Detective Porter.”
“She doesn’t handle arson.”
“Then call whoever does.”
“Clara—”
“And call your lawyer.”
He groaned.
“Extremely dramatic.”
“Yes.”
“Paperwork.”
“Yes.”
“You are cruel.”
“Yes.”
He hung up.
Clara stared phone.
Had she stopped him?
Maybe.
Twenty minutes later Enzo texted:
Turning around.
Clara sat down.
Hands shook.
She had not realized how scared she was.
Not only for Dominic.
Of Dominic.
Of what family loyalty might demand.
The next morning, arson investigators recovered surveillance footage.
A van.
Plate partially visible.
Rental tied to intermediary connected to Costa associate.
Again.
Evidence.
Slow.
Dominic did not retaliate.
That became important later.
Not because Clara made him good.
She refused that story.
Because he chose differently when angry.
Clara visited injured guards.
One named Luis had burns on hands.
He looked embarrassed.
“Boss shouldn’t have sent you.”
“He didn’t.”
Luis blinked.
“I came.”
That distinction.
Always.
Then one afternoon, Costa’s attorney subpoenaed Clara in a related civil matter.
Not criminal trial yet.
They wanted financial records showing Rossi payments.
Dominic’s debt payment resurfaced.
Clara was furious all over.
At deposition, lawyer asked:
“Did Mr. Rossi pay more than eighty thousand dollars on your behalf?”
“Yes.”
“Did you repay?”
“I am repaying under written agreement.”
“Why would he give such favorable terms?”
“Because he is my biological half-brother.”
“Whom you discovered after shooting.”
“Yes.”
“And he provides security?”
“Under conditions I accept.”
“Pays medical costs?”
“Some initial costs were paid without my permission and later documented.”
The lawyer paused.
Most witnesses hid inconvenient facts.
Clara volunteered precision.
“Do you consider yourself financially loyal to Dominic Rossi?”
“No.”
“Family loyal?”
She thought.
“Sometimes.”
Attorney frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means family relationships do not change what I saw.”
“What did you see?”
“A man with a gun aiming toward Isabella Rossi.”
“Did you see Victor Costa?”
“No.”
“Did you hear Victor Costa give order?”
“No.”
“Do you know whether he ordered attack?”
“No.”
The attorney looked almost disappointed.
Clara leaned back.
“That is investigator question.”
Her limited testimony became stronger because she refused to stretch it.
Later prosecutor told her:
“Thank you.”
“For not helping?”
“For not trying to.”
Good.
The case against Costa grew from other evidence.
Financial crimes.
Conspiracy.
Intermediaries.
Fire added separate counts later where provable.
No one needed Clara to become perfect witness.
That freed her.
Nursing school continued.
Anatomy.
Pharmacology.
Clinical skills.
She nearly failed a medication-calculation test because trauma brain and exhaustion.
She cried in bathroom.
Then retook.
Passed.
Dominic sent no celebratory check.
Just text:
Good.
Clara replied:
That’s it?
He wrote:
I am practicing restraint.
She laughed.
Isabella sent cake.
Too much cake.
Still.
Family.
One evening after class, Clara walked toward subway and saw a man leaning against dark sedan.
Her body froze.
He looked familiar.
Costa associate?
Security?
She called 911 before Dominic.
Good.
Police arrived.
Man was private investigator for tabloid.
Not threat.
Clara filed complaint for harassment where applicable.
Called Dominic later.
“You called police first.”
“Yes.”
He sounded almost proud.
“Do not make this parenting.”
“Sibling.”
“Worse.”
They laughed.
Then Dominic said:
“Clara.”
“What?”
“Thank you for calling me that night.”
She knew.
Fire.
“You turned around.”
“Yes.”
“That was you.”
“No.”
“Do not.”
Silence.
He corrected.
“I chose to turn around.”
“Good.”
“And I hated you.”
“Also good.”
Their relationship was growing into something Clara had never expected.
Not protector and protected.
Not boss and dependent.
Not secret Rossi daughter.
Brother and sister.
Messy.
Argumentative.
May you like
Chosen slowly.
Which made it real.
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