Chapter 10 - The Matriarch's Verdict
My heart sank into my stomach. I had read about Concetta Moretti in the medical files—she had been living in private exile in Italy for three years following the death of Dominic’s father.
"Mrs. Moretti," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Dominic is not home yet. He is attending the Commission meeting."
"I know where my son is," Concetta said smoothly, stepping closer to the staircase. Her sharp eyes swept over my gray scrubs, my neat bun, and finally down to Julian, who was fast asleep in my arms. "He is currently executing his uncle for stupidity. A necessary task, though messy."
She stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking up at me.
"And you," Concetta said, her voice dropping into a cold, critical register. "You are Clara Vance. The waitress who plays nurse."
"I am Julian’s primary caretaker," I corrected firmly. "And I saved his life."
"So I have been told," Concetta said, motioning to her men, who set the wooden crate down near the door. "My son’s reports from Chicago have been... illuminating. He claims you cured the child’s illness. He claims you protected my grandson during an armed siege. And he claims you are essential to this household."
"I do my job, Mrs. Moretti," I said.
Concetta walked up two steps, bringing her face level with mine. Her eyes were the exact same shade of cold, intelligent dark brown as Dominic’s.
"Dominic is a Moretti," Concetta stated coldly. "He carries the weight of an empire on his shoulders. He cannot afford sentimentality, Miss Vance. His first wife died because she was soft. She was weak. She could not handle the blood on our hands."
"I’m not weak," I said, looking her dead in the eye without flinching. "I’ve buried my own son, Mrs. Moretti. I’ve held a dying baby in my arms while guns were pointed at my head. I didn't run. I saved your grandson."
Concetta stared at me. For three long, agonizing seconds, the matriarch’s icy demeanor didn't crack.
Then, slowly, a small, subtle nod passed between us.
"You have steel in your spine," Concetta admitted quietly. "That is good. Because if you intend to stay beside my son, you will need every ounce of it."
Before I could reply, the heavy double doors flew open again.
Dominic walked in, his long coat damp with rain. He stopped instantly when he saw his mother standing on the stairs near me.
"Mother," Dominic said, his voice laced with surprise and instant wariness. "You were supposed to remain in Rome."
"And miss the survival of my grandson?" Concetta said, turning around to face her son. "I think not, Dominic. I came to see if the rumors were true. I came to see if you had lost your mind over a common girl."
Dominic walked up the stairs, taking a firm position right beside me. He placed a heavy, protective hand around my waist, pulling me close against his side in a clear, undeniable display of possession to his mother and the entire room.
"Clara is not a 'common girl,'" Dominic said, his voice echoing through the grand foyer with absolute authority. "She is the woman who saved my son. She is the center of this house. And she is staying."
Concetta looked at her son’s hand around my waist. She looked at the unwavering defiance in his eyes, and then at the absolute calm in mine.
A slow, rare smile appeared on the matriarch’s face.
"Good," Concetta said softly, turning back toward the door. "Because the Russians have just declared war on our eastern docks, Dominic. You will need a woman who knows how to keep your heart beating while you burn this city to the ground."
Concetta walked out into the rain, leaving the heavy front doors open behind her.
Dominic turned to look down at me. His dark eyes were soft, filled with a warmth he had never shown to anyone else in the world.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
"I’m fine," I said, looking up into his face. I reached up, my hand resting gently against his jaw. "How did the meeting go?"
"Valerio is gone," Dominic said plainly. "The Commission has bowed to my authority. The syndicate is ours."
He looked down at Julian, who opened his small dark eyes, looking up at his father with a quiet, peaceful stare. Dominic slowly reached out, his hand gently stroking Julian’s cheek.
"We are a family now, Clara," Dominic whispered, his voice thick with raw emotion as he looked back into my eyes. "A dangerous, broken family. But we are whole."
May you like
I leaned up on my toes, closing the small distance between us, and kissed him.
It was not a gentle kiss; it was deep, passionate, and filled with the promise of survival, love, and an unshakeable future. Outside, the rain continued to hammer against the windows of Villa Moretti, but inside, beneath the grand brass lights, the silence was finally broken by the sound of hope.
