Chapter 4 - Shadows at the Door
The door to the nursery burst open.
A man in his early fifties stepped into the room. He wore a tailormade navy suit, his graying hair slicked back, his facial features strikingly similar to Dominic’s, though his eyes carried a sharp, bitter arrogance. Behind him stood two heavily armed guards, who were immediately met by Frankie and two of Dominic’s men blocking the hallway.
"Uncle Valerio," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a cold, flat monotone. He didn't draw his weapon, but his posture was that of a predator preparing to strike. "You enter my house unannounced."
Valerio Moretti sneered, glancing past Dominic to glance at me, then at the crib where Julian was sleeping. "I heard a rumor from the restaurant, Dominic. They said the child was dying. They said some common servant had to save your heir because you couldn't control your own household."
"The child is fine," Dominic said smoothly. "And you are standing in his nursery. Lower your voice before I have Frankie remove your tongue."
Valerio laughed—a harsh, barking sound that made Julian stir in his sleep. I immediately stepped toward the crib, placing a comforting hand on Julian's chest to keep him grounded.
Valerio’s eyes locked onto me, assessing my server apron with deep contempt. "So this is the girl? A waitress off the floor of Bellavita? You bring an outsider into the inner sanctum of this family to nurse the future head of the syndicate? Have you lost your mind, Dominic? Or did your wife's death destroy your judgment entirely?"
"Watch your mouth, Valerio," Dominic warned, taking a single step forward. The air in the room became instantly suffocating. "Mention my wife again, and this meeting ends in blood."
"The Commission is concerned!" Valerio spat, matching Dominic’s glare. "The syndicate requires stability! The outfit in Chicago cannot be led by a man whose household is in chaos! The Russians are encroaching on our eastern shipping docks, the federal prosecutor is preparing a new grand jury indictment, and you are playing house with a waitress!"
"The outfit is secure," Dominic said, his voice dropping so low it was almost a growl. "And my family is private. Get out of my house."
Valerio stared at Dominic for a long, tense moment. The silence was razor-sharp, a cold war between uncle and nephew fought over turf, power, and legacy.
"This isn't over, Dominic," Valerio whispered sinisterly. He looked past Dominic, his dark eyes fixing directly on me. "Be careful, little girl. Taking care of a Moretti child is a very dangerous profession. People who get too close to this family tend to end up underground."
With a final, contemptuous glare, Valerio turned on his heel and swept out of the room, his guards falling in line behind him. Frankie closed the door heavily behind them, locking it from the inside.
I stood by the crib, my heart pounding against my ribs. I had known the mafia was dangerous, but witnessing the raw, visceral hatred within Dominic’s own family was chilling.
Dominic stood still for a long moment, his shoulders rigid. Slowly, he let out a controlled breath and turned around to look at me.
"Are you frightened, Clara?" he asked, his voice calm again.
"He threatened me," I said plainly, keeping my hand on Julian's chest. "And he threatened your baby."
"Valerio is a coward who talks loudly to hide his declining influence," Dominic said, though his eyes told a different story. "He cannot touch you here. My men guard this perimeter twenty-four hours a day."
"He doesn't need to break into this house to hurt you, Dominic," I said softly, looking at the sleeping infant beneath my hand. "He just needs to wait until you make a mistake."
Dominic walked over to the crib, standing right beside me. He looked down at Julian, his dark eyes filled with a complex mix of love, grief, and fierce protectiveness.
"I don't make mistakes," Dominic said flatly. "And I will tear this city to ground before I let anyone touch my son."
He looked at me then—really looked at me. His eyes drifted down to my hand, which was gently soothing his son.
"You should change out of those clothes," Dominic said, his tone softening imperceptibly. "Mrs. Gable has placed clean garments in your suite. Rest, Clara. Tomorrow, your new life begins."
He turned and walked toward the door, but stopped before stepping out into the hall.
"And Clara?"
I looked up. "Yes?"
May you like
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Before I could process the words, Dominic Moretti stepped out into the dark hallway, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone in the silent nursery.
