Chapter 7 - The Cousin Who Called Me Sister
The name Dominic Romano brought back memories I hadn't thought about in years.
Sunday dinners at Teresa's house.
Christmas mornings when he arrived with expensive gifts and an even more expensive smile.
The night Adrian was hospitalized after the shooting, when Dominic stood beside me outside the operating room and promised that nothing would happen to his cousin.
He was forty-six now.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Always dressed impeccably.
He wore his dark hair short and had a tattoo of the Romano family crest along his forearm.
Unlike Adrian, Dominic laughed easily.
He remembered birthdays.
He complimented the food at family gatherings.
He treated me like a younger sister.
And now investigators believed he'd helped build a financial scheme intended to destroy Adrian's control of his own companies.
I stared at the recording summary Rachel had placed before me.
"Why would Dominic do this?"
Rachel folded her hands.
"Money is one possible explanation. Control is another."
"But he already owns part of the family businesses."
"Not enough to control them."
I looked at the documents.
Dominic held minority interests in several Romano companies.
He also served as a backup administrator under an old family operating agreement.
I'd seen that agreement before.
Years earlier.
When Adrian had been updating the family estate plans.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced.
"Rachel."
She looked up.
"Dominic asked me to sign something last summer."
"What?"
"A household continuity authorization."
Her expression changed.
"Tell me exactly what happened."
I closed my eyes.
It had been a Thursday afternoon.
Adrian was in New York.
I was in the mansion's library, reviewing maintenance contracts.
Dominic arrived with a folder.
He said the family office was updating emergency procedures.
There was a form authorizing certain administrative representatives to access household records if Adrian became unavailable.
I'd read it.
Then I'd asked why it included access to my personal financial and medical contact information.
Dominic laughed.
"Little sister, it's just standard paperwork."
I told him I'd have Rachel review it.
He smiled.
Then he took the folder away.
I'd never heard about it again.
At least, I thought I hadn't.
I told Rachel.
She leaned forward.
"Did you sign anything?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely."
Dana looked up from her notes.
"Did Dominic appear disappointed?"
"Not exactly."
I remembered the way his smile had tightened.
The way he'd slid the papers back into the folder.
The phrase he'd used while leaving.
Adrian really has spoiled you with all this independence.
At the time, I'd laughed politely.
Now I felt sick.
"He was testing whether I'd sign without reading."
Rachel nodded.
"That appears possible."
"Why?"
Dana glanced at the operating agreement.
"Because if Dominic could establish himself as an authorized household representative, he might obtain access to information that made you vulnerable. And if Adrian lost operational control, Dominic had a potential path to manage parts of the business."
I stared at the documents.
"So they wanted Adrian gone."
"Possibly removed from management, pressured into transferring control, or otherwise made unable to resist. We shouldn't assume a particular plan without evidence."
I appreciated her caution.
But the pattern was becoming difficult to ignore.
The forged signatures.
The suspicious payments.
The attempt to access my medical records.
Bianca's involvement.
Marco's threats.
Dominic's quiet position inside the family.
None of it had happened by accident.
That afternoon, Adrian confronted a problem more painful than the possibility of prison.
He had to tell his mother that the cousin she'd helped raise might have betrayed the family.
Teresa sat across from him in her sunroom.
The curtains were open.
Sunlight fell across the old photographs on her mantel.
Adrian placed a folder on the table.
"Dominic's involved."
Teresa didn't reach for it.
She stared at her son.
"How certain?"
"The evidence is substantial. Investigators are examining the records."
Teresa looked toward the garden.
For several moments, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, "Your father warned me."
Adrian's head lifted.
"About what?"
"Dominic."
He stared at her.
Teresa closed her eyes.
"When your father became ill, Dominic began asking about ownership arrangements. He wanted more authority. More access to the accounts."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did."
Adrian frowned.
"When?"
"At the hospital, before your father's final surgery. You told me Dominic was family and that family disputes could wait."
Adrian remembered.
Vaguely.
He had been exhausted.
His father was dying.
The business was unstable.
Dominic had seemed dependable.
He'd offered to handle difficult conversations and keep troublesome relatives away.
Adrian had accepted the help.
Just as he'd accepted Elena's.
Just as he'd accepted Nicholas's.
He had confused delegation with trust.
And trust with refusing to look closely.
Teresa touched the folder.
"Your father loved Dominic, but he never entirely trusted him."
Adrian looked down.
"Neither should I have."
Teresa studied him.
"Don't start blaming yourself for every crime other people committed."
"I'm responsible for the choices I made."
"Yes."
"And I made too many of them because they were convenient."
Teresa's expression softened.
"Then make better ones."
Adrian nodded.
"I intend to."
He stood.
Before leaving, he asked, "Has Elena called?"
"This morning."
"How is she?"
"Tired. But doing well."
"And the baby?"
"Apparently very active."
Adrian smiled faintly.
Teresa watched him.
"She doesn't owe you reconciliation."
His smile disappeared.
"I know."
"She doesn't owe you a home."
"I know."
"And she doesn't owe you gratitude for finally protecting her from people you allowed near her."
Adrian took the words without protest.
Then Teresa said something gentler.
"But if you want to be a good father, you can start by becoming the kind of man who tells the truth even when nobody is asking."
At twenty weeks, I felt my baby kick for the first time.
It happened on an ordinary Monday afternoon.
I was sitting at my desk, reviewing a bakery's monthly sales report, when something fluttered low in my abdomen.
I froze.
Then it happened again.
A small, unmistakable movement.
I pressed my hand against my stomach.
"Hello?"
The room remained quiet.
Then another flutter.
I started laughing.
Tears filled my eyes.
For months, pregnancy had been photographs, appointments, vitamins, and a growing change in the shape of my body.
Now there was someone inside me who could announce her presence.
I didn't know the baby's sex yet.
The anatomy scan was scheduled later that week.
But I knew this little person was already changing my life.
I reached for my phone.
For one instinctive second, I almost called Adrian.
I had spent eight years sharing my happiest moments with him.
When something wonderful happened, he had always been the first person I wanted to tell.
That instinct hadn't disappeared simply because our marriage was ending.
I stared at his name.
Then I put the phone down.
Not because he didn't deserve to know.
Because I needed to understand that I was allowed to have a moment that belonged only to me.
So I called Teresa instead.
She answered immediately.
"Elena?"
"The baby kicked."
There was silence.
Then Teresa let out a delighted cry.
"Oh, sweetheart!"
I laughed.
"Only a little flutter."
"That still counts!"
She asked whether I was comfortable.
Whether I had eaten.
Whether I wanted company.
I told her I was fine.
Then she said something that made me love her even more.
"Can I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"Would you like me to tell Adrian, or would you rather tell him yourself?"
For once, someone was letting me decide.
"Let me tell him."
"Then I won't say a word."
I sent Adrian a message that evening.
ELENA: The baby moved today. I felt the first kicks.
He replied almost immediately.
ADRIAN: Really?
ELENA: Yes.
ADRIAN: That's incredible.
A few seconds passed.
ADRIAN: Were you frightened?
I smiled.
ELENA: No. Happy.
ADRIAN: I'm glad.
Then another message appeared.
ADRIAN: Thank you for telling me.
I looked at the screen for a long moment.
Once, I would have told him everything automatically.
Now I was learning that sharing something could be a choice.
And that being included should feel like a gift.
Not an entitlement.
The anatomy scan revealed that we were having a daughter.
Adrian arrived early.
He brought the medical forms.
He waited until I invited him inside.
And when Dr. Whitcomb said, "It's a girl," he pressed both hands over his face.
I laughed softly.
"Are you crying?"
He lowered his hands.
His eyes were wet.
"Apparently."
Dr. Whitcomb smiled.
Our daughter stretched on the screen.
Her tiny legs moved.
One hand rested near her face.
Everything important in the examination was reassuring.
I felt an enormous wave of relief.
Adrian looked at the monitor.
"A girl."
"Yes."
He turned toward me.
"She's beautiful."
"She's a blurry ultrasound image."
He laughed.
"Still beautiful."
I smiled despite myself.
Then he asked, "Have you thought about names?"
"A few."
"Can I hear them?"
I hesitated.
Then I said, "Lucia."
Adrian went completely still.
"Lucia?"
I nodded.
"Lucy, maybe, when she's little."
His expression changed.
"That was my grandmother's name."
"I know."
His grandmother had raised him during the years his father was building the family business.
She had been stubborn, practical, and deeply affectionate.
She'd died before our wedding.
Adrian had once told me that she was the only person who could tell his father he was wrong without being shouted down.
"I always loved the name," I said.
He looked back at the monitor.
"Lucia."
For a moment, he seemed unable to speak.
Then he whispered, "Thank you."
I shook my head gently.
"I didn't choose it to reward you."
"I know."
"I chose it because it's beautiful."
Adrian nodded.
"And because she deserves a name that belongs to her."
We watched our daughter move.
And for a few quiet minutes, we were simply two people meeting someone they already loved.
Three days later, the investigation took a dangerous turn.
Dominic Romano arrived at the mansion carrying a leather folder.
Adrian was waiting in the library.
Vincent stood near the door.
Martin Voss, Adrian's attorney, had advised him not to discuss the federal investigation with Dominic.
Adrian followed that advice.
He had also arranged for the relevant documents to be reviewed by counsel before the meeting.
Dominic entered smiling.
"You're a difficult man to reach."
"Things have been busy."
"So I've heard."
Dominic glanced around the room.
"House feels empty."
Adrian said nothing.
"Elena always made this place feel alive," Dominic continued. "Beautiful woman. Shame about the divorce."
Adrian looked at him.
"Why are you here?"
Dominic's smile faded slightly.
"Business."
He placed the folder on the desk.
"The South Harbor agreement needs to be resolved."
"My attorneys are handling it."
"Your attorneys are going to cost us millions."
"Then we'll lose millions."
Dominic stared.
"You're joking."
"No."
"Adrian, we've spent years building these relationships."
"And some of them should never have existed."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"You sound like Elena."
Adrian felt something shift.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"She always cared too much about paperwork. Rules. Signatures. Whether every little thing was properly approved."
Adrian leaned back.
"She was usually right."
Dominic laughed.
"God, you're serious."
He opened the folder.
Inside was a proposed management agreement.
If Adrian signed, Dominic would assume temporary operational authority over several shipping companies while the regulatory review continued.
The agreement also included a separate authorization allowing an outside consultant to review certain family administrative records.
Adrian read the pages.
Then he looked up.
"Why is Elena named here?"
Dominic's smile disappeared.
"What?"
"Her personal information. The old household accounts. Why does this agreement include them?"
"Standard due diligence."
"She's not involved in these companies."
"She's your wife."
"Not for much longer."
Dominic sighed.
"Adrian, don't make this difficult."
Adrian closed the folder.
"I'm not signing."
Dominic stared at him.
"You'd rather risk everything?"
"Yes."
"Even her?"
The room became very quiet.
Vincent straightened.
Adrian didn't move.
"Explain what you mean."
Dominic leaned forward.
"Marco is losing patience. He's been more understanding than you realize."
"About what?"
"Elena."
Adrian kept his voice controlled.
"Leave my wife out of this."
Dominic laughed.
"Your wife? That's interesting. You were ready to throw her away six months ago."
Adrian felt the words land.
He deserved them.
But Dominic's expression told him the remark wasn't intended merely to hurt.
It was intended to remind him that other people had watched his marriage deteriorate.
Perhaps encouraged it.
Perhaps profited from it.
Dominic continued.
"Marco believes Elena has certain records. Records that could create problems for everyone."
"The records belong with investigators."
Dominic went still.
Then he smiled slowly.
"You really have changed."
Adrian didn't answer.
Dominic closed his folder.
"Think carefully, cousin."
"I have."
As Dominic turned toward the door, Adrian spoke again.
"Stay away from Elena."
Dominic glanced over his shoulder.
"That's going to be difficult."
"Why?"
"Because she has something Marco wants."
"And what is that?"
Dominic smiled.
"Ask her what Nicholas hid in your wedding present."
Then he walked out.
Adrian immediately told his attorneys and investigators exactly what had happened.
He didn't pursue Dominic.
He didn't send men to threaten him.
He documented the conversation and handed over the proposed agreement.
The document became another piece of evidence in the investigation.
But for me, the most frightening part wasn't the contract.
It was Dominic's confidence.
He knew about the watch.
He knew about Nicholas.
And he appeared to believe that even now, with federal agents examining the family businesses, someone could still force me to cooperate.
That night, I asked Dana a question.
"Do you think Dominic would hurt me?"
She didn't pretend to know.
"I think his conduct gives us reason to take the risk seriously."
I nodded.
Then I asked, "Can I tell you something?"
"Of course."
"I'm tired of being brave."
Dana's expression softened.
"Then don't make bravery your job."
I looked at her.
"What's my job?"
"Take care of yourself. Keep your appointments. Let people you trust help you. Tell the truth when investigators ask. You don't have to solve the entire case."
I started crying.
Because for eight years, I had been the person who handled everything.
Now someone was finally giving me permission not to.
A week later, Bianca provided investigators with another recording.
It was a voicemail Marco had left months earlier.
At the time, she'd kept it because his threats frightened her.
His voice was unmistakable.
"Adrian doesn't need to die. He just needs to be removed from the board long enough for Dominic to take control. Once the extension is signed, we're done."
A pause.
Then Marco continued.
"And Elena? Keep her close to the house. She's the one who knows where everything is."
The recording ended.
I listened to it once.
Then I asked Rachel to turn it off.
For months, I'd wondered whether Bianca had been the reason my marriage ended.
Now I knew she was part of a larger plan.
But that didn't make Adrian innocent.
He had still chosen the affair.
Still asked for the divorce.
Still treated my devotion as something he no longer needed.
The conspiracy explained why Bianca had entered our lives.
It didn't excuse the door Adrian had opened for her.
Rachel studied my face.
"Are you all right?"
"No."
"Do you need a break?"
I nodded.
She closed the laptop.
Then my phone began ringing.
Teresa.
I answered immediately.
"Hello?"
Her voice was trembling.
"Elena, I'm sorry to call you like this."
I stood.
"What's wrong?"
"Dominic came to see me."
My blood went cold.
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago."
"Is he still there?"
"No."
I closed my eyes in relief.
Then Teresa continued.
"He asked me where you're staying."
I gripped the phone.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing."
"Good."
There was a pause.
Then Teresa whispered, "Elena, he left something behind."
"What?"
"A photograph."
My stomach tightened.
"Of what?"
"You."
I stopped breathing.
Teresa's voice broke.
"From this morning."
I looked toward the window.
She continued.
"You were coming out of the bakery on Maple Avenue."
I had been there to meet my first client.
A routine appointment.
Nobody outside my small circle knew about it.
May you like
Then Teresa whispered the words that made me feel the world shift beneath my feet.
"On the back, he wrote, 'Tell Adrian he has until Friday.'"
