Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF THE ROSSI NAME
Dominic stared at Isabella as though he'd never seen her before.
Clara felt the temperature in the library drop.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Isabella's initials were on Michael's missing page.
I.R.
Approval for Carlo Rossi's death.
Dominic's father.
Isabella's husband.
"Tell me it's not you," Dominic said.
His voice was quiet.
That was worse than shouting.
Isabella wiped one tear from her cheek.
"It's not what you think."
Dominic laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"I have spent fourteen years listening to that sentence."
"Dominic—"
"You told me Michael was innocent."
"He was."
"You told me Salvatore might have betrayed us."
"I didn't know."
"You let me hunt ghosts while you carried the missing page around your neck."
"I was protecting you."
Dominic slammed his fist into the table.
Clara flinched.
"FROM WHAT?"
Isabella's eyes filled.
"From becoming your father."
Silence.
Dominic stepped back.
"What does that mean?"
Isabella looked toward Clara.
"This began before Carlo died."
She sat slowly.
"Your father wanted out."
Dominic's expression changed.
"No."
"He did."
"Carlo Rossi wanted out of the family?"
"He wanted you out."
Isabella touched the emerald necklace.
"By the time you were seventeen, he understood what this life had done to him. He didn't want it to do the same to you."
Dominic's face hardened.
"Then why was there an approval bearing your initials?"
"Because they weren't my initials."
Clara frowned.
"Who else is I.R.?"
Isabella looked at Dominic.
"Your grandfather."
Dominic went still.
"Ignazio Rossi."
Isabella nodded.
"He was alive then?"
"He was dying."
Dominic knew his grandfather had died only six weeks before Carlo.
"He was bedridden."
"Not mentally."
Isabella's voice shook.
"Ignazio believed Carlo had become weak. He believed leaving would fracture the family and hand power to Costa."
Clara understood.
"So Victor went to Dominic's grandfather."
"Yes."
"And Ignazio approved his own son's murder?"
Isabella closed her eyes.
"Yes."
Dominic looked physically ill.
The man who had taught him to play chess.
The man who had given him his first watch.
The man whose funeral Dominic had stood at beside his grieving father.
Had approved Carlo's execution.
"Why didn't Michael write the full name?"
"Because the code was supposed to be obvious to people who understood the accounts."
Salvatore whispered, "I.R. was Ignazio's corporate signature."
Dominic turned toward him.
"You knew?"
"No."
Isabella continued.
"Michael discovered it after Carlo was shot. He brought me the page."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because Ignazio was still alive."
"So?"
"Because he would've had you killed too."
Dominic stared.
Isabella stood.
"You were seventeen. Furious. If you'd known your grandfather ordered your father's death, you would've walked into his bedroom and put a bullet in him."
Dominic said nothing.
Because she was right.
"And every captain loyal to Ignazio would've killed you before you reached the front gate."
Tears rolled down her face.
"I had already lost my husband. I would not lose my son."
Dominic looked away.
Clara saw the child beneath the crime boss for one brief second.
A seventeen-year-old boy.
Father dead.
Mother lying to protect him.
Grandfather responsible.
Every person he'd trusted carrying pieces of the truth.
"Caruso pulled the trigger?" Dominic asked.
"Yes."
"Thomas arranged the warehouse?"
"Yes."
"Victor funded everything?"
"Yes."
"And Ignazio approved it."
"Yes."
Dominic closed his eyes.
When he opened them, something had changed.
"The past can wait."
Isabella stared.
"Dominic—"
"Ellen can't."
He looked at Clara.
"Your mother is alive because Victor still needs something."
"The ledger."
"No."
Clara frowned.
"He asked for it."
"If the ledger were all he needed, he would've taken it at Red Hook."
"What does he need?"
Dominic looked at the missing page.
"Proof that his name isn't the only one on this."
Isabella understood.
"He wants the originals destroyed."
"And us with them."
Clara whispered, "Then we give him what he thinks he wants."
Dominic's eyes met hers.
A plan formed between them.
Anthony Caruso received his false information at nine forty-five that evening.
Dominic deliberately argued with Enzo where Caruso could overhear.
"Clara enters through the west service tunnel at eleven fifty."
Caruso pretended not to listen.
Ten minutes later, a burner phone connected to a tower near the estate.
Message sent.
Dominic's surveillance team intercepted it.
WEST TUNNEL. GIRL WITH ROSSI. LEDGER CONFIRMED.
Enzo looked at Dominic.
"We've got him."
Dominic stared through the one-way glass at Caruso drinking coffee.
"Not yet."
"You want him alive?"
"For now."
"Why?"
Dominic's eyes became cold.
"Because I want him to look at me when he admits what he did."
At eleven thirty, Clara dressed for the ballroom.
Not in hospital clothes.
Not in a gown.
Black trousers.
Soft boots.
A dark sweater beneath a bullet-resistant vest.
Dominic entered the guest bedroom.
He stopped.
Clara looked at him.
"What?"
"You shouldn't be standing."
"I'm leaning."
"That is standing with excuses."
She adjusted the vest.
His gaze dropped to the gold ring.
Still there.
Clara noticed.
"Don't get sentimental."
"Impossible."
"Good."
Dominic approached.
He knelt to secure a strap on the vest.
His fingers brushed her waist.
Clara's breath caught.
So did his.
Neither mentioned it.
"There's something you should know," Dominic said.
"Oh good. Another family secret."
"If tonight goes wrong—"
"Don't."
"Clara."
"No."
She looked down at him.
"We're both leaving that hotel."
He stood.
"You can't promise that."
"Neither could my father."
The words hit her harder than expected.
Dominic's expression softened.
Clara swallowed.
"I spent fourteen years believing Dad died because he hit black ice."
"He died protecting you."
"That doesn't make it easier."
"No."
Dominic looked at her.
"But it makes his choice matter."
Clara's eyes filled.
"Why do you understand that?"
"Because every person I loved taught me protection by lying."
He glanced toward the hallway where Isabella waited.
"I'm trying something different."
"What?"
"The truth."
Clara gave him a sad smile.
"How's that working?"
"Terribly."
She laughed.
It hurt.
But she laughed anyway.
Dominic reached for her hand.
This time Clara didn't pull away.
"If we survive," he said, "I'll remove the ring myself if that's what you want."
She looked at their hands.
"And if I don't know what I want?"
"Then I'll wait."
"Dominic Rossi waits?"
"For very little."
His thumb brushed the band.
"But I can learn."
A voice crackled through Enzo's earpiece.
"Boss. Caruso is moving."
The moment shattered.
Dominic released Clara.
"Time."
The Aster Crown ballroom had been closed since the shooting.
Police tape still marked one entrance.
Bullet damage scarred two marble columns.
Clara's stomach twisted as she entered from the rooftop access corridor.
She could still hear the gunshots.
Feel them.
Dominic noticed her breathing.
"Look at me."
She did.
"Not the room."
Clara focused on his eyes.
"Seven bullets," she whispered.
"And you lived."
"Mostly out of spite."
"An excellent survival instinct."
They moved toward the balcony above the ballroom.
Enzo's voice came through the earpiece.
"West tunnel team has contact."
Gunfire erupted far below.
The trap worked.
Costa's men believed Clara was entering through the west.
Dominic and Clara descended the north stairwell.
At midnight exactly, the ballroom lights turned on.
Victor Costa stood beneath the central chandelier.
Ellen sat in a chair beside him.
Clara's heart stopped.
"Mom."
Ellen looked up.
Her face crumpled.
"Clara."
Victor smiled.
"I was beginning to think New York traffic had defeated the great Dominic Rossi."
Dominic walked forward.
"Let her go."
"Ledger?"
Clara held up a black binder.
Victor's eyes brightened.
"There's Michael's little masterpiece."
Clara stepped forward.
Dominic blocked her with one arm.
Victor laughed.
"Protective husband."
Clara's eyes hardened.
"You shot the wrong waitress."
"No, sweetheart."
Victor's smile disappeared.
"We shot exactly who we intended."
Dominic froze.
Clara stared.
Victor leaned closer.
"The bullets weren't meant for Isabella."
Ellen shook her head violently.
"Clara, no!"
Victor smiled.
"That shooter entered the ballroom for you."
Clara went cold.
"He aimed at Isabella."
"Because he knew what you'd do."
Dominic's face changed.
Victor looked at him.
"Michael Evans raised his daughter to protect people."
He laughed softly.
"Predictable to the end."
Clara stared at her mother.
Ellen was crying.
"Why?"
Victor answered.
"Because your mother refused to tell me where the ledger was."
He lifted a pistol.
"So I decided grief might make her cooperative."
Dominic moved slightly in front of Clara.
Victor smiled.
"Unfortunately, you proved harder to kill than expected."
Then another voice came from behind them.
"She always was."
Dominic turned.
Father Thomas stepped from the shadows.
Gun raised.
Not at Clara.
At Dominic.
And behind him stood Anthony Caruso.
May you like
The trap had caught the traitor.
But the traitor had brought an army.
