Chapter 6 - The Man Who Had to Choose Between Revenge and Love
Dominic wanted every Moretti soldier in Chicago searching.
Grace wanted police.
Daniel wanted federal agents.
Luca wanted Dominic to remain inside the house.
No one got exactly what they wanted.
Dominic stood in the security room while camera footage replayed.
Matteo’s men had triggered an alarm at the east perimeter.
Two guards moved.
A third entered through Eleanor’s balcony using an old service route.
Someone had known the security layout.
Inside knowledge.
Again.
Dominic felt fury building with nowhere safe to go.
Grace stood beside him.
“She needs medication.”
“I know.”
“Chemo meds. Anti-nausea medicine.”
“I know.”
“She gets dehydrated quickly.”
“I know.”
Grace turned him.
“Then stop looking like you’re planning a funeral.”
His eyes snapped to hers.
“I am going to get her back.”
“Good.”
“And then Matteo—”
“Later.”
“Grace.”
“Eleanor first.”
He stared.
Nobody interrupted vengeance inside his family.
Grace did.
And she was right.
Daniel entered.
“Call.”
Everyone froze.
Speakerphone.
Matteo’s voice.
“Cousin.”
Dominic’s body became stone.
“Let her go.”
Matteo laughed.
“No hello?”
“You have ten seconds.”
“Still Anthony’s son.”
Grace saw the words land.
Dominic looked at her.
Then inhaled.
“What do you want?”
Matteo paused.
The change in Dominic’s response had surprised him.
“The ledger.”
“Federal authorities have copies.”
“I want the original.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s something inside the binding.”
Dominic looked at Daniel.
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
Dominic asked.
“Salvatore’s account keys.”
Cryptocurrency?
Bank codes?
Matteo continued.
“My father left access instructions. The ledger was his insurance.”
“You kidnapped an eighty-three-year-old woman with pancreatic cancer for money?”
Silence.
Matteo’s voice hardened.
“You killed my father.”
“I did not.”
“Your father did. You took his chair. Same thing.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Inherited guilt.
Exactly what they discussed.
Dominic said, “Where is Eleanor?”
“Alive.”
“Let me hear her.”
“No.”
“Then no ledger.”
A pause.
Rustling.
Then Eleanor’s voice.
“Nicky?”
Dominic nearly broke.
“Nell.”
“Do not give this idiot anything.”
Matteo swore.
Eleanor continued louder.
“He drives terribly.”
Grace laughed through tears.
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Medication?”
“They took my bag.”
“Eleanor.”
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t.
Dominic could hear weakness.
Matteo returned.
“Midnight. Old Bennett building in Milwaukee.”
Grace froze.
Her restaurant.
“Bring the ledger.”
“Alone?”
“You and the cook.”
“No.”
Grace said, “Yes.”
Dominic turned.
Matteo heard.
“Good. She understands.”
The call ended.
“No.”
Dominic faced Grace.
“You are not going.”
“It’s my old building.”
“That means nothing.”
“It means I know it.”
“So does Matteo.”
“I know the basement.”
“No.”
Grace crossed her arms.
“The tunnels are why he chose it.”
“I know.”
“You need someone who remembers the kitchen layout.”
“I have plans.”
“They’re wrong.”
“What?”
“The renovation plans are wrong.”
Dominic stared.
“When we opened the restaurant, we discovered an old cold-storage room not shown on the drawings. Landlord told us to close it.”
“Where?”
“Behind the basement pantry.”
Daniel straightened.
“A tunnel?”
“Maybe.”
Dominic hated this.
Grace continued.
“If Matteo is using the old building, he may have Eleanor downstairs.”
“You still aren’t going.”
“You promised you wouldn’t stop me if I chose to leave your house.”
“This is not leaving my house. This is walking into a hostage exchange.”
“You don’t own the distinction.”
He stepped closer.
“I love her.”
Grace’s face softened.
“So do I.”
“And I—”
He stopped.
Almost said something else.
Grace noticed.
“Dominic.”
He looked away.
There was no time.
They created a plan.
Federal agents would remain outside Matteo’s likely surveillance perimeter.
Luca’s team entered through adjacent buildings.
Dominic and Grace would carry the ledger.
Original.
Binding still unopened.
At eleven forty, they arrived in Milwaukee.
Grace stared through the car window at Bennett’s Table.
Her old sign remained faintly visible beneath black paint.
Windows boarded.
Her life frozen behind plywood.
Dominic looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Later.”
They entered through the front.
Dust.
Empty floor.
The outline of tables still visible in the worn wood.
Grace’s throat tightened.
Matteo’s voice came through darkness.
“Downstairs.”
They followed.
The basement smelled damp.
At the bottom, two armed men searched Dominic.
One searched Grace.
Dominic nearly killed him with his eyes when his hands lingered.
Grace ignored it.
“Where is Eleanor?”
“Move.”
They entered the old storage area.
Matteo stood beside Eleanor.
She sat in a chair.
Not tied.
Because apparently even kidnappers had limits with an eighty-three-year-old woman holding a cane.
She looked weak.
But furious.
“Grace.”
“I’m here.”
“You should not be.”
Grace almost cried.
Matteo held a gun.
“Ledger.”
Dominic lifted it.
“Eleanor first.”
“No.”
“You get this when she crosses to us.”
Matteo smiled.
“You still think you negotiate.”
“I do.”
“I have three men.”
“You think I came without twenty?”
Matteo’s smile tightened.
“Then we all die.”
Eleanor sighed.
“Men.”
Everyone looked at her.
“This is why women live longer.”
Matteo snapped, “Quiet.”
Eleanor raised her cane.
“I changed Dominic’s diapers. I am not taking instructions from a man whose mother once asked me how to stop him from biting other children.”
Grace almost laughed.
Matteo’s face flushed.
Dominic used the distraction.
“Grace.”
She knew.
She moved slightly toward the pantry wall.
Matteo noticed.
“Stay.”
Grace stopped.
“What’s behind that wall?” Dominic asked.
Matteo’s eyes flicked.
Enough.
Grace knew.
The old cold room.
The tunnel.
Eleanor was positioned near it.
Dominic held out the ledger.
“You want what your father left?”
“Yes.”
“You know what he left me?”
Matteo laughed.
“Nothing.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic’s voice became quieter.
“Anthony left me everything. Power. Money. Enemies. A house nobody laughed in.”
Eleanor watched.
“He left you grief.”
Matteo’s expression hardened.
“Don’t.”
“Our fathers destroyed each other.”
“You benefited.”
“Yes.”
Dominic surprised everyone.
“Yes, I did.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“And that makes me responsible for what I do with it.”
Dominic placed the ledger on the floor.
“But not for Anthony killing Salvatore.”
“You sit in his place.”
“No.”
Dominic looked toward Grace.
“I sat in his place.”
Past tense.
Matteo laughed.
“What changed?”
Dominic answered honestly.
“I got tired.”
Silence.
“Tired of men dying because someone forty years ago decided fear was inheritance.”
He looked at Eleanor.
“Tired of pretending the people I love are safer if I control them.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
Matteo raised his gun.
“Touching.”
Then he pointed it at Grace.
Dominic’s body went rigid.
“Don’t.”
“There.”
Matteo smiled.
“There’s the real you.”
Dominic slowly raised his hands.
“What do you want?”
“Account keys.”
“I don’t have them.”
“They’re inside the binding.”
“Then take it.”
Matteo looked toward one of his men.
The guard moved.
Grace saw Eleanor shift her cane.
Tiny motion.
Warning.
Then Grace heard it.
Footsteps behind the old wall.
Luca.
They were in position.
Matteo’s man bent for the ledger.
Eleanor swung her cane.
Hard.
It struck his wrist.
Gun fell.
Grace lunged toward Eleanor.
Dominic moved toward Matteo.
Chaos exploded.
The hidden wall burst inward.
Luca’s team entered.
Matteo fired.
Dominic twisted.
Pain tore through his side.
Grace screamed.
Dominic kept moving.
He hit Matteo.
Both men crashed into shelving.
Federal agents flooded from the stairs.
Matteo reached for his fallen weapon.
Dominic got there first.
Gun in his hand.
Matteo on the floor.
Everything stopped.
This was the moment everyone expected.
Dominic Moretti.
The feared man.
His enemy helpless beneath him.
His nanny kidnapped.
Grace threatened.
Blood soaking Dominic’s shirt.
Matteo laughed.
“Do it.”
Dominic’s finger tightened.
Grace held Eleanor.
“Dominic.”
One word.
He looked at her.
Not fear.
A request.
Do not become him.
Dominic lowered the gun.
Matteo’s smile vanished.
“No.”
Dominic stepped back.
“You wanted my father.”
His voice was quiet.
“You don’t get him.”
Agents tackled Matteo.
Handcuffs closed.
Dominic swayed.
Grace saw the blood.
“Oh my God.”
“I’m fine.”
“You were shot.”
“Grazed.”
“You’re bleeding through your shirt.”
“Fine.”
“House vocabulary,” Eleanor whispered.
Then she fainted.
Everything changed.
The ambulance raced to the hospital.
Eleanor’s blood pressure had crashed.
Dehydration.
Stress.
Cancer.
Dominic required twelve stitches along his ribs.
He refused pain medication until Grace threatened to personally sedate him with a cast-iron skillet.
At four in the morning, Dr. Patel came out.
“Eleanor is stable.”
Dominic sat down.
Grace cried.
Dr. Patel continued.
“But we need to talk.”
The cancer was progressing faster than hoped.
Treatment was becoming harder than the disease.
There were options.
None easy.
Eleanor woke later and made the decision herself.
“No more chemotherapy.”
Dominic’s face went blank.
“Nell.”
“No.”
“We can try another regimen.”
“No.”
“Specialist in New York.”
“No.”
“Switzerland.”
“Dominic.”
He stopped.
Eleanor looked at Grace.
“See?”
Grace took her hand.
Eleanor looked back at him.
“I want my time.”
“You could have more.”
“Or I could spend whatever I have vomiting into expensive hospital buckets.”
His eyes filled.
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“Neither do you.”
Dominic looked away.
Eleanor reached for him.
“Come here.”
He sat.
She held his face like he was still a child.
“I am not choosing death.”
Her voice was soft.
“I am choosing the life I have left.”
Dominic cried then.
No attempt to hide it.
Grace sat beside him.
Eleanor held both their hands.
And in the quiet hospital room, Dominic understood the lesson he had spent his entire life refusing.
May you like
Love did not give you the right to keep someone.
Sometimes love meant honoring the choice that terrified you most.
