Chương 3 - The Man Who Followed MeThe hallway became silent in the way rooms do when everyone inside understands violence might happen before anyone says another word.
Dominic's security chief, Marcus Vale, moved first.
He stepped between us and the strangers, one hand beneath his jacket.
“Identify yourself.”
The man in charcoal smiled.
“Gabriel Moretti.”
Dominic's face changed.
The name meant something.
I could tell.
Vittorio swore under his breath.
That frightened me more.
Gabriel Moretti was perhaps forty-five. Tall, composed, almost elegant. Nothing about him looked dangerous except the fact that every armed man around Dominic treated him like a live grenade.
Dominic took one step forward.
“You're supposed to be in Milan.”
“I was.”
“What do you want?”
Gabriel glanced past him.
At me.
Then at the open suite door.
“The same thing everyone in this hallway wants.”
His smile disappeared.
“The truth.”
Dominic motioned to Marcus.
The elevator immediately closed behind Gabriel's men.
Nobody was allowed farther into the hall.
Gabriel didn't seem bothered.
“The children shouldn't hear this.”
I hated that he was right.
I returned to the suite, asked Dr. Patel to stay with the boys, and shut the door.
Then I came back outside.
Dominic looked irritated.
“You should stay with them.”
“They're my children, Dominic. If this concerns them, I'm hearing it.”
Something in his eyes said he recognized the woman he'd once loved.
Not frightened.
Not obedient.
Stubborn enough to make terrible decisions beside him.
Gabriel reached inside his jacket.
Half the hallway tensed.
He slowly removed a phone.
“I came because someone contacted me two months ago.”
“Who?” Dominic asked.
“Your bride.”
Everything stopped.
Downstairs, dozens of guests were probably still trying to understand why the ceremony had ended.
I looked at Dominic.
His bride's name was Celeste Hart.
Until that evening, she had been a stranger to me.
Gabriel continued.
“Celeste believed someone had been following her. She wanted discreet security.”
“Why contact you?”
“Because she didn't trust anyone connected to the Russo family.”
Dominic's expression darkened.
“She didn't tell me.”
“Apparently your fiancée had secrets.”
The irony wasn't subtle.
I looked away.
Gabriel unlocked his phone and displayed a photograph.
A black sedan.
My stomach dropped.
“That car.”
Dominic looked at me.
“What?”
“That followed me three years ago.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Exactly.”
Vittorio stared at the image.
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Carlo's men used American plates.”
Gabriel enlarged the photograph.
“These aren't American.”
The plate was partially visible.
Quebec.
Dominic looked between them.
“What are you saying?”
Gabriel answered carefully.
“Someone wanted Elena frightened enough to leave. Your father provided the money. Carlo provided the threat. But neither appears to have controlled the vehicle Elena remembers.”
My skin prickled.
“So there was someone else.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
That was somehow worse.
Dominic took the phone.
“When did Celeste photograph this?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Where?”
“Outside her apartment.”
The implication hit all of us.
The same network that had watched me was now watching Dominic's bride.
“What did Celeste know?” I asked.
Gabriel studied me.
“She knew you existed.”
Dominic looked sharply at him.
“How?”
“She found a photograph.”
My heart began pounding.
“What photograph?”
Gabriel swiped.
There we were.
Dominic and me.
Lake Como.
Four years earlier.
I was laughing into the camera, my hair wet from swimming. Dominic stood behind me, arms wrapped around my waist.
I remembered the exact day.
He'd told me he loved me for the first time that night.
Celeste had found it.
Gabriel said, “The photograph had been placed inside her car.”
Dominic's eyes hardened.
“With a message?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Gabriel hesitated.
Then showed us.
Written across the back in black ink were seven words.
SHE RAN ONCE. WILL YOU?
My stomach turned.
Dominic stared at it.
“How long has this been happening?”
“Eight weeks.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“Celeste asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“Because she wasn't sure whether you were the danger or the target.”
Dominic looked wounded.
Only for a second.
Then he rebuilt the wall.
“Where is she?”
“Last I saw, downstairs.”
Marcus touched his earpiece.
His expression changed.
“She's gone.”
Dominic turned.
“What?”
“Our team can't locate Ms. Hart.”
“When did she leave?”
“Security footage shows her exiting through the service corridor eighteen minutes ago.”
“With whom?”
Marcus paused.
“One of Vittorio's drivers.”
Every head turned toward Dominic's father.
Vittorio looked genuinely confused.
“I didn't send anyone.”
Dominic didn't believe him.
Neither did I.
Marcus received another message through his earpiece.
Then his face tightened.
“We have another problem.”
“What?”
“The driver was found unconscious in the parking garage.”
My heartbeat became loud in my ears.
“And Celeste?”
“Missing.”
The wedding had turned into something else entirely.
Dominic began issuing orders.
Lock the garage.
Pull every camera.
Alert airport security.
Track Celeste's phone.
Vittorio tried to interrupt.
Dominic ignored him.
Within minutes, the hotel floor became a command center.
I should have taken my children and left.
Every survival instinct screamed at me to.
But Samuel was sick.
Someone had been watching me years ago.
Someone had found Dominic's fiancée.
And suddenly Switzerland didn't feel safe anymore.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I stared at the screen.
Dominic noticed.
“Don't answer.”
It rang again.
Then a text appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD.
My fingers went numb.
Dominic took the phone.
A second message arrived.
THREE BOYS. THREE DEBTS.
His face transformed.
I had seen Dominic angry before.
This was different.
This was colder.
Controlled.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“Move Elena and the children.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Dominic looked at me.
“You don't get to say no to this.”
“I absolutely do.”
“Someone just threatened our sons.”
“Our?”
He recoiled.
The word had slipped out naturally.
Good.
I wanted him to feel it.
“You don't get to discover you have children and become their dictator in the same hour.”
“I am trying to keep them alive.”
“So was I.”
That silenced him.
For three years I had replayed our last relationship through the filter of fear.
Now I remembered something else about Dominic.
He listened when it mattered.
Eventually.
His jaw worked.
“Fine. Where do you suggest?”
“The hospital first.”
“For Samuel.”
“Yes.”
“And after that?”
I looked at the threatening message.
“I don't know.”
Dominic lowered his voice.
“My house has security.”
“So did your wedding.”
He had no answer.
Vittorio approached us.
“There is one place.”
Dominic turned toward him.
“You're still talking?”
“The Cape property.”
“No.”
“It isn't in the company records.”
“Carlo knew about it.”
“Carlo knew the old house.”
Vittorio looked at me.
“He didn't know about the bunker.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course you have a bunker.”
Dominic rubbed his forehead.
“You're not taking my children into one of his bunkers.”
The phrase my children landed differently.
I saw it hit him too.
But there was no time to deal with that.
Samuel's fever climbed again.
We left for Boston Children's under armed escort.
Dominic rode with us.
He sat across from Samuel in the armored SUV while Luca and Noah asked him questions nonstop.
“Do you have a dog?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I travel.”
“Do you have toys?”
“No.”
“That's sad.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“Apparently.”
“Do you have cartoons?”
“I own a television.”
Noah looked relieved.
I watched the man I had feared our sons would never meet being interrogated about dinosaurs, pancakes, bedtime, and whether sharks slept.
Then Samuel stirred against me.
Dominic leaned forward immediately.
His hand hovered uncertainly.
I nodded.
He touched Samuel's forehead.
The tenderness on his face nearly undid me.
At the hospital, the physician confirmed influenza and dehydration.
Samuel would recover.
I cried in the restroom for five minutes from relief.
When I returned, Dominic was sitting beside the bed.
Samuel slept with one hand wrapped around Dominic's finger.
Dominic didn't notice me immediately.
He was staring at our son.
“I missed everything,” he whispered.
I stopped.
His eyes stayed on Samuel.
“First steps. First words. First birthdays. Every nightmare. Every scraped knee.”
“You didn't choose that.”
“Neither did they.”
“No.”
He finally looked at me.
“Did they ask about their father?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That you didn't know about them.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You told them that?”
“They know they have a father. They know he wasn't given a choice.”
Dominic swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because whatever happened between us, I wasn't going to teach them that they were unwanted.”
His eyes grew wet.
He looked away before tears could fall.
My phone buzzed.
Another unknown message.
This time it included a photograph.
Taken minutes earlier.
Through the hospital window.
Dominic holding Samuel's hand.
The message beneath it said:
THE WRONG RUSSO SURVIVED.
Dominic stared at the picture.
Then he called Marcus.
May you like
“Seal the floor.”
But before Marcus answered, every light in Samuel's hospital room went dark.
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