Chapter 22 - The Unbroken Man
As the sun began its slow descent toward the western tree line, casting long amber shadows across the manicured lawns of the Long Island estate, Dominic rolled his chair out onto the expansive rear stone terrace. Below him, the manicured gardens sloped down toward the private stretch of coastline where the waves of the sound broke in a steady, rhythmic cadence against the rocks.
Vince stood quietly a few paces away near the balustrade, watching the perimeter with a calm, watchful eye before giving a subtle nod and stepping back inside the house, leaving them to the quiet of the evening.
Dominic rested his hands on the rubber-coated rims of his wheelchair, looking out across the vast horizon. His legs were still silent, refusing to carry his weight, but the physical reality no longer defined his limitations. He had survived the betrayal, the ambush, and the dark months of agonizing recovery. He had reclaimed his throne, secured his future, and proven to every enemy in the underworld that a broken spine did not equal a broken man.
May you like
Isabella stepped out onto the terrace, wrapping a fine cashmere shawl around her shoulders as she walked over and stood beside his chair. She slipped her hand into his, their fingers interlocking tightly against the gathering chill of the autumn evening.
Dominic looked down at the ring catching the last dying embers of the sunset, then out across the endless water where his world waited for no one. The pain was gone. The debt was paid. Dominic Moretti was finally home.
