Chapter 9 - The Mother Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Dominic had buried his mother without a body.
Not literally.
There had been no funeral.
No grave.
Only a story.
After Antonio Castellano died, Elena disappeared.
Salvatore told everyone grief had destroyed her.
Then came rumors.
Switzerland.
Argentina.
Monaco.
A nervous breakdown.
A new identity.
Dominic spent three years searching privately.
Every trail ended nowhere.
Eventually, he accepted what everyone around him insisted was true.
His mother had chosen to leave.
It hardened something in him.
His father had died.
His mother had abandoned him.
Love became unreliable.
Power did not.
Now Dominic stared at a photograph proving seventeen years of his life had been built on another lie.
“When was this taken?” he asked.
Monroe answered.
“Forty-three minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Private terminal in New Jersey.”
“Aircraft?”
“Departed before we flagged it.”
“For where?”
“Filed flight plan says Montreal.”
“False.”
“We assume.”
Dominic zoomed in.
His mother walked beside Charles Vane without restraints.
No visible fear.
No sign she was being forced.
She carried a leather handbag.
Wore a gray coat.
Looked healthy.
Alive.
“What if she’s involved?” Monroe asked.
Dominic looked at her.
“She isn’t.”
“You haven’t seen her in seventeen years.”
“She isn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
Dominic’s eyes turned cold.
“Careful.”
Monroe did not flinch.
“This is why I’m useful to you. I don’t care whether the woman in that photograph rocked you to sleep when you were four. If she participated in murders, I will arrest her.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Then he nodded.
Fair.
Painful.
But fair.
Matteo entered the command room they had borrowed from hospital administration.
“We found the aircraft.”
“Where?”
“Changed transponder identification over Vermont.”
“Current heading?”
“Southwest.”
Monroe frowned.
“Southwest toward where?”
Matteo placed a map on the screen.
“Pennsylvania.”
Dominic understood before the others.
“The estate.”
“What estate?” Monroe asked.
“My father’s.”
The Castellano family maintained a private property outside Hawley, Pennsylvania.
Three hundred acres.
Lake.
Woods.
A stone house Antonio had purchased before Dominic was born.
After Antonio’s death, the estate was closed.
Dominic had not visited in fifteen years.
“Why there?” Monroe asked.
“Because the original records are there.”
“What records?”
“The company predates digital accounting. My father kept duplicate books.”
Monroe stared.
“Another ledger?”
“Not exactly.”
Dominic remembered childhood afternoons in his father’s library.
Antonio teaching him numbers.
Old shipping manifests.
Partnership contracts.
Handwritten notes.
If Vane possessed documents predating Dominic’s control, he could manipulate the narrative.
Make Dominic appear responsible for crimes committed before he took over.
Or destroy evidence implicating Salvatore.
“We go now,” Monroe said.
Dominic turned toward Amelia’s room.
“No.”
Monroe raised an eyebrow.
“Changed your mind?”
“I’m not leaving without seeing my son.”
Ten minutes later, Dominic stood beside Luca’s incubator.
Amelia had been wheeled from recovery in a chair.
A nurse placed Luca carefully in her arms.
Dominic sat beside them.
For sixty seconds, no FBI.
No mafia.
No ledger.
No betrayal.
Just three people.
Amelia looked at him.
“Your mother.”
“Yes.”
“You thought she was gone.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know.”
“That scares you more than the bank.”
Dominic looked down at Luca.
“Yes.”
Amelia reached across and touched his face.
“You don’t have to act like nothing hurts.”
“I’m discovering that.”
“How is it going?”
“Poorly.”
She smiled.
Luca yawned.
Dominic stared.
“He did something.”
“He yawned.”
“Is that normal?”
“Very.”
“He looks tired.”
“He’s six hours old.”
“Should we call someone?”
Amelia laughed.
“You are going to be unbearable.”
“Probably.”
Dominic leaned forward.
He kissed Luca’s forehead.
Then Amelia’s.
“I need to go.”
“I know.”
“If anything happens—”
“Three guards.”
“Matteo stays.”
Matteo, standing at the door, immediately objected.
“Boss.”
“You stay.”
“My job is—”
“My family.”
The word filled the room.
Matteo stopped.
Dominic looked at him.
“Your job is my family.”
Matteo nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Dominic turned back to Amelia.
“I’ll return.”
“You better.”
He left with Monroe and a federal tactical team.
The drive to Pennsylvania took less than two hours with helicopters moving ahead.
Snow covered the hills.
Dominic watched trees blur beyond the window.
Monroe sat opposite him.
“What was your father like?”
Dominic almost ignored the question.
Then answered.
“Loud.”
“You’re not.”
“I learned.”
“From him?”
“From watching what happened to loud men.”
Monroe nodded.
“He loved baseball. Terrible cook. Bought expensive wine and mixed it with soda.”
“That should be a federal offense.”
“He also believed family could solve anything.”
“And Salvatore killed him.”
“Yes.”
Monroe studied Dominic.
“What do you believe now?”
Dominic looked at the photograph of Amelia and Luca on his phone.
“That family can destroy you.”
Monroe waited.
“And?”
“Still worth it.”
They reached the Castellano estate at dusk.
Federal teams surrounded the property.
No movement.
Dominic stepped from the vehicle.
The stone house looked exactly as memory preserved it.
Snow on the roof.
Dark windows.
A wooden swing beneath an oak tree.
His mother had pushed him on that swing when he was six.
For one second, Dominic was not thirty-eight.
He was a child again.
Then gunfire cracked from the second floor.
Agents took cover.
Monroe grabbed Dominic.
“Down!”
A window shattered.
Another shot.
Dominic crouched behind an SUV.
“Vane?”
“Likely.”
A loudspeaker ordered occupants to surrender.
No response.
Then the front door opened.
A woman stepped outside.
Dominic stopped breathing.
Elena Castellano.
His mother.
She raised both hands.
“Don’t shoot!”
Dominic stood despite Monroe’s warning.
“Mom.”
Elena saw him.
Her face broke.
“Dominic.”
Seventeen years disappeared in one word.
She ran.
Federal agents tried to stop her.
Dominic crossed the snow.
His mother reached him.
Her hands touched his face.
“Oh, my God.”
Dominic could not move.
“You’re alive.”
She began crying.
“So are you.”
He pulled away.
Anger returned.
“Where were you?”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Dominic—”
“Seventeen years.”
“I know.”
“You left me.”
“No.”
“You vanished.”
“I was taken.”
Dominic froze.
“By who?”
“Salvatore.”
The world shifted.
Elena grabbed his hands.
“Your uncle threatened you. He said if I returned, you would die.”
Dominic stared.
“You could have contacted me.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Three times.”
“I never received anything.”
“Charles intercepted everything.”
Dominic looked toward the house.
“Vane?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you with him now?”
“He found me three days ago.”
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
“You were here?”
“For years.”
Dominic’s chest tightened.
So close.
Elena continued.
“He told me Salvatore was going to kill you and the baby.”
“You knew about Luca?”
“Charles did.”
“Why help him?”
“I didn’t.”
She reached inside her coat.
Agents raised guns.
Dominic lifted a hand.
Elena slowly removed a flash drive.
“I stole this from him.”
“What is it?”
“Everything.”
A shot cracked.
Elena jerked.
Dominic caught her.
Blood appeared across her shoulder.
“Mom!”
Agents fired toward the second-floor window.
Vane disappeared.
Dominic dragged Elena behind cover.
“Stay with me.”
“It’s just my shoulder.”
“You’re bleeding.”
She gave a weak smile.
“You sound like your father.”
Dominic almost broke.
Monroe crouched beside them.
“Medic!”
Elena grabbed Dominic.
“The drive.”
“I have it.”
“Do not let Charles destroy the basement records.”
“What’s down there?”
Her eyes filled with fear.
“Proof.”
“Of Salvatore?”
“Of all of them.”
“Who?”
“Judges. Officials. businessmen.”
She swallowed.
“And people inside your own company.”
Dominic’s mind raced.
“How many?”
“Dozens.”
Another explosion shook the house.
Flames appeared behind a basement window.
Vane was burning evidence.
Dominic stood.
Monroe grabbed him.
“No.”
“He’s destroying everything.”
“The house is unstable.”
“I know the basement.”
“You were last here fifteen years ago.”
“I know it.”
Monroe looked toward the fire.
Then at Dominic.
“Thirty seconds behind my team.”
“Ten.”
“Twenty.”
“Fine.”
They entered.
Smoke filled the hall.
Dominic remembered every room.
The staircase where he broke his wrist at nine.
The dining room where his mother served Christmas dinner.
The library where his father taught him to play chess.
Now fire crawled across the walls.
Federal agents moved toward the basement.
Shots fired.
Vane was still inside.
Dominic descended.
At the bottom, he saw Charles Vane standing beside a burning table.
Seventy-two.
Gray-haired.
Elegant.
Holding a pistol.
Boxes of documents burned behind him.
Vane smiled.
“The prodigal son.”
Dominic stared.
“You took my mother.”
“I protected your mother.”
“You imprisoned her.”
“Salvatore did.”
“You helped.”
“I survived.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“By destroying my family.”
“Your family destroyed itself long before you were born.”
Vane lifted the pistol.
Monroe aimed at him.
“Drop it!”
Vane ignored her.
He looked only at Dominic.
“You think Amelia changed you.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
Vane smiled.
“She merely gave you a new weakness.”
“Wrong.”
“Where is she tonight?”
Dominic stopped.
Something about the question.
Too deliberate.
Vane’s smile widened.
“At St. Vincent’s?”
Dominic’s blood froze.
Matteo.
Three guards.
Hospital security.
Still—
Vane had people everywhere.
Dominic reached for his phone.
No signal underground.
Vane laughed.
“You should have stayed with your new family.”
Dominic lunged.
Vane fired.
Agents returned fire.
Dominic hit the floor.
Vane collapsed.
Monroe kicked away the weapon.
Dominic grabbed her radio.
“Get St. Vincent’s now.”
Static.
“NOW!”
Outside, a helicopter pilot relayed the call.
Dominic ran toward the stairs.
His phone gained signal halfway up.
Twenty-three missed calls.
All from Matteo.
Then a text.
BOSS. CALL ME.
Dominic dialed.
Matteo answered immediately.
“Dominic.”
“What happened?”
Silence.
That silence nearly killed him.
“What happened?”
“Someone breached the maternity floor.”
Dominic stopped.
“Amelia?”
“She’s alive.”
“Luca?”
Another pause.
Dominic’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Matteo.”
“I’m sorry.”
The world narrowed.
“What happened to my son?”
May you like
Matteo’s voice broke.
“They took him.”
