Chapter 2 - THE MONSTER AT THE GATES
The change in the house over the next two weeks was nothing short of miraculous.
The heavy, suffocating silence that had hung over the Beacon Hill mansion for two years began to shatter, piece by piece. The long, formal dining room—where Dominic used to eat his dinner in cold isolation while Leo ate upstairs with a nanny—was transformed.
Lily had no concept of mafia hierarchy. On Tuesday evening, she walked straight up to the head of the table, grabbed Dominic’s expensive silk tie, and pulled it gently until the most feared man in Boston was forced to bend down so she could place a shiny star sticker directly on his forehead.
I had almost fainted on the spot, expecting Dominic to snap.
Instead, the ruthless mob boss had quietly sat through a three-course meal with a neon-yellow star stuck to his forehead while his top lieutenants stood by the door, trying desperately not to stare.
And Leo... Leo was changing.
The quiet, rigid six-year-old was slowly letting his guard down. I watched from the conservatory window as he ran across the manicured lawn with Lily, his small face flushed with pink, chasing a red ball. For the first time, his dark eyes held a spark of genuine, bright light.
Dominic stood beside me at the window, his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets.
"He's color-coding his books now," Dominic remarked softly, a rare, faint smile touching the corner of his lips. "Lily convinced him that blue books are for rainy days and red books are for sunny days. He spent two hours reorganizing his entire library last night."
"She has a way of turning everything into a game," I smiled, looking up at him.
Standing next to Dominic without the formal barrier of master and servant felt strange, yet surprisingly natural. Over the past fourteen days, I had seen a side of him that no one else in Boston knew existed—a father deeply, desperately devoted to his son, carrying a mountain of guilt that was slowly crushing him.
"You've done more for him in two weeks than six expensive child psychologists did in two years, Isabella," Dominic said, turning his head to look down at me.
His gray-tinged dark eyes lingered on my face, resting on my lips for a fraction of a second before moving back to my eyes. The sudden, intense heat in his gaze made my stomach perform a strange, fluttery flip.
"I just gave him permission to be six, Mr. Moretti," I whispered, my voice slightly breathless.
"Dominic," he corrected quietly. "When we are in this house... call me Dominic."
Before I could answer, the heavy mahogany front doors slammed open downstairs.
The sound echoed through the high ceilings like a gunshot.
Dominic’s posture instantly shifted. In less than a second, the relaxed, gentle father vanished, replaced entirely by the cold, lethal Don. He stepped in front of me, shielding me with his tall frame as heavy, fast footsteps hurried up the marble stairs.
"Boss!" Marco, Dominic’s chief of security, burst into the hallway, his face pale and covered in sweat. "We have a situation at the front gate."
Dominic’s hand reached instinctively under his jacket, resting on the grip of the custom semi-automatic holstered at his waist. "Who is it?"
"It's Matteo Castiglione," Marco gasped, checking his own sidearm. "He's alive, Boss. The rumors were true. He came back from Sicily."
Dominic’s entire body went rigid. The air in the hallway instantly plummeted to below freezing.
Matteo Castiglione—the younger brother of the man who had ordered the car bomb that killed Dominic’s wife. Everyone had assumed Matteo fled the country and died in exile, but now he was standing at the front gates of the Moretti estate.
"How many men did he bring?" Dominic asked, his voice dripping with lethal calm.
"Three SUVs. All armed," Marco replied grimly. "He says he isn't here to fight. He says he has a gift for you—something regarding your late wife."
Dominic glanced back at me. The cold terror in my eyes mirrored the quiet horror rising in the house. Down on the lawn, the children had stopped playing, sensing the sudden tension radiating from the upper balcony.
"Isabella," Dominic commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Take Leo and Lily to the safe room behind my study. Lock the iron door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me. Do you understand?"
"Dominic... please be careful," I breathed, grabbing his forearm instinctively.
May you like
He looked down at my hand resting on his arm, then up at my eyes. He reached out, his long, warm fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
"Nothing touches this house while I breathe," he promised softly. "Go."
