Chapter 4 - THE TRUTH BEHIND THE EYES
Headline: The Ultimate Betrayal—My Most Trusted Man Plotted My Destruction
Dominic’s world shattered.
"Marco?" Dominic whispered, his voice cracking. "No. Marco has been with me for fifteen years. He was like a brother to me."
"He was also deeply in debt to the Morettis," Elena said, gently covering the triplets' ears as she spoke. "Why do you think your wife's security detail failed fourteen months ago, Dominic? Why do you think the Morettis knew exactly which route Isabella was taking to the hospital?"
The realization hit Dominic like a tidal wave. The anger, the grief, the guilt he had carried for over a year—it had all been built on a lie. The enemy wasn't just outside his gates. The enemy was sitting at his dining table, handling his security, managing his empire.
"He set her up," Dominic muttered, his eyes turning bloodshot. "My own brother killed my wife."
"And he’s here to finish the job," Elena said, standing up and pulling the triplets behind her. "Marco didn't run a background check on me because he suspected me. He ran it because he realized I was the one keeping your daughters safe. He knew my face from my days in the cartel."
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
"Dominic?" Marco’s voice called out through the darkness. "Boss? Are you in there? The perimeter is breached. We need to get you to the safe room."
Dominic looked at Elena. She quietly picked up the dead assassin’s handgun and checked the magazine, handing it to Dominic. Their eyes met, and in that silent exchange, a strange, powerful understanding passed between them.
They were both survivors of the same brutal world. And they both had something to protect.
"Go," Elena whispered. "Take the girls through the service elevator behind the kitchen. I’ll handle Marco."
"No," Dominic said, his voice cold and steady. "I don't run from my own house. And I don't let anyone else fight my battles."
Dominic stepped out of the playroom, his face a mask of absolute calm, and confronted Marco in the dimly lit hallway.
"Marco," Dominic said, his voice deceptively warm. "I'm here."
Marco ran up to him, his gun drawn. "Thank God, Boss. We need to move. The Morettis have a hit squad inside."
"I know," Dominic said, stepping closer. "And they're very efficient. But they made one mistake."
"What’s that?" Marco asked, his eyes scanning the shadows.
"They hired you," Dominic said.
Before Marco could react, Dominic lunged forward, grabbing Marco’s wrist and twisting it until the bone snapped. Marco cried out in pain, dropping his weapon. Dominic slammed him against the wall, burying his forearms into Marco’s throat.
"You sold my wife to the Morettis," Dominic growled, his face inches from Marco's. "You let her die. And you tried to kill my daughters."
"Dominic... please..." Marco choked out, his face turning purple. "They... they had my family..."
"You should have come to me," Dominic whispered. "Now, you have no family. And you have no boss."
Dominic pulled his Beretta and pressed it directly beneath Marco's chin.
But before he could pull the trigger, a loud crash echoed from the kitchen downstairs. A voice boomed through the mansion's PA system, crackling to life on the emergency backup battery.
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"Dominic Russo! We have the estate surrounded. You have five minutes to bring us the housekeeper and the kids, or we burn this entire mansion to the ground with you inside!"
It was the voice of Silvio Moretti—the head of the rival family.
