Chapter 10 - The Price of Coming HomeDominic Bellandi had never been afraid of a locked door.
He had broken through them, had them opened, or waited until the people behind them became desperate enough to invite him inside. He had never needed to wonder whether someone would allow him to enter a room.
That changed when Matteo told him Elena had agreed to speak with him.
There was one condition.
He had to come alone.
No guards inside the clinic.
No convoy parked in front.
No weapons.
No attempt to persuade her to return to Chicago.
If he broke any of those conditions, the conversation would end.
Dominic read Matteo's message three times.
Then he placed his phone on the desk.
His men watched him from the far side of the operations room.
“Boss?” one of them asked.
“Prepare a car.”
“How many men?”
“None.”
The lieutenant hesitated.
“Sir, with the attacks—”
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“No, Boss.”
Dominic took his coat and left.
He drove north himself.
The journey gave him too much time to think.
He remembered Elena's face the previous night. He had replayed the argument so often that he could recall the smallest details: the way she held her hands together, the way she looked toward his phone, the moment she stopped asking questions.
He had told himself that he was tired.
That he had too much responsibility.
That she was asking for reassurance at a difficult moment.
Each excuse sounded weaker with every mile.
He had spent six months telling Francesca things he had hidden from Elena.
He had allowed himself to confuse emotional dependence with professional support, then treated his wife's pain as an inconvenience.
He had never slept with Francesca.
He had never kissed her.
But he had given her his attention, honesty, and trust while insisting that Elena should be satisfied with whatever remained.
He had drawn a line around physical betrayal because it was the only line he knew how to respect.
The realization disgusted him.
At 11:07 a.m., he reached the clinic.
Matteo waited outside.
“She's in the consultation room.”
Dominic glanced at the entrance.
“Is Sofia here?”
“Yes. She's recovering at a nearby residence. She's safe.”
“Good.”
Matteo studied his brother.
“Don't try to take Elena home.”
“I won't.”
“Don't tell her you're sorry and expect that to fix twelve years of taking her for granted.”
Dominic's mouth tightened.
“I know.”
Matteo gave him a doubtful look.
“Then act like it.”
He led Dominic down the corridor and stopped outside a small room.
“She's inside.”
Dominic reached for the handle.
Then he hesitated.
For the first time in his adult life, he was afraid of what might happen if someone opened a door.
He knocked.
“Elena?”
A quiet voice answered.
“Come in.”
He entered alone.
She sat beside the window, wearing a cream sweater and dark trousers. Her left shoulder was bandaged beneath the fabric. Her hair was tied loosely at the back of her neck.
She looked tired.
She also looked different.
Not because she had changed physically, but because she no longer seemed to be waiting for him to tell her what happened next.
Dominic stopped several feet from the chair opposite her.
“May I sit?”
Elena regarded him for a moment.
“Yes.”
He sat.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Dominic had imagined their reunion dozens of times. In some versions, Elena cried. In others, she shouted at him. He had prepared apologies in the car, each one more polished than the last.
Now every word seemed inadequate.
“I heard about the lake,” he said.
“Then you know what happened.”
“Are you hurt?”
She looked at her bandaged shoulder.
“I was shot at.”
His jaw tightened.
“I'm sorry.”
“You didn't pull the trigger.”
“No. But you were in danger because of the world I brought into your life.”
She studied him.
It was the first answer he had given that did not sound like an excuse.
He forced himself to continue.
“I spent last night looking for you. I thought someone had taken you.”
“I know.”
“I didn't understand why you had left until I found your ring.”
Elena looked down at her hand.
“Then perhaps the ring did more talking than I ever could.”
He flinched.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
The simple agreement left him with nowhere to hide.
He leaned forward, then caught himself before reaching for her hand.
“I told you to leave because I wanted the argument to stop. I never thought you would actually go.”
“That is the problem, Dominic.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Her voice remained calm, which made him listen more carefully.
“You thought I would always be there. You thought I would forgive you because I had forgiven you before. You thought I would keep adjusting my needs until your life became comfortable again.”
He looked at the floor.
“You were right to expect more from me.”
“I wasn't asking for more. I was asking for the same thing I had already given you.”
She paused.
“My attention. My honesty. My trust. I wanted to be the person you called when you couldn't sleep. I wanted to know what frightened you. I wanted you to tell me when something was wrong instead of turning toward someone else and then telling me I didn't understand.”
Dominic's eyes burned.
“I didn't realize how much I was doing it.”
“You didn't want to realize.”
The words struck harder than an accusation.
“You liked having somewhere else to go,” Elena continued. “Somewhere you could speak without being reminded that your decisions affected another person. Francesca could listen to your fears without asking what they meant for our marriage. She could comfort you without expecting you to change.”
Dominic said nothing.
“And when I asked you to look at what was happening, you told me to leave.”
He looked up.
“I'm sorry.”
Elena's expression barely changed.
“I believe you.”
Hope rose in his chest.
Then she added, “But an apology doesn't make the damage disappear.”
He swallowed.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She studied him for a long moment.
He looked exhausted. His eyes were shadowed, his collar creased, and the familiar certainty had drained from his face.
For the first time in years, he looked less like Chicago's most feared mafia boss and more like the young man who had once been afraid that he was incapable of being loved.
Elena still loved that man.
That was the tragedy.
She could see him beneath the damage, but she could not pretend the damage was not there.
“Why did you come?” she asked.
“Because I wanted to see you.”
“That isn't enough.”
“Because I'm worried about your safety.”
“Also not enough.”
He stared at her.
“Then tell me what is.”
Elena's expression hardened.
“No. I spent twelve years explaining what I needed. I'm not going to teach you how to be my husband now that losing me has become inconvenient.”
Dominic looked as though he had been struck.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
For once, he did not argue.
Elena appreciated that more than she wanted to.
She reached into her suitcase and removed the envelope.
“This belonged to your father.”
Dominic looked at the handwriting.
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your father gave it to me before he died. He asked me not to open it until you were ready to hear the truth.”
Dominic accepted the envelope with both hands.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he asked me to wait.”
“You could have told me it existed.”
“I could have.”
She did not attempt to defend herself.
“But your father believed that you might one day confuse obedience with loyalty. He wanted someone outside your chain of command to preserve the truth if that happened.”
Dominic opened the envelope and read the first lines.
His expression grew darker with every paragraph.
When he reached the reference to Luca Vale, he stopped.
“Francesca's brother?”
“Yes.”
He looked up.
“Did she tell you anything about him?”
“No. I've never spoken to her.”
Dominic stared at the page.
For six months, Francesca had listened while he discussed his fears about betrayal. All that time, she might have been carrying her own suspicion about the man who had authorized an operation connected to her brother's death.
He had never known.
“Your father believed Luca was trying to warn us about Vittorio,” Elena said. “He also believed Enzo had helped cover up the truth.”
“Enzo has been taken into custody.”
“Then we need the original records. A letter is not enough to prove what happened.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
He looked at the document beneath the letter.
“This succession agreement could cripple Vittorio's claim to the legitimate businesses.”
“If the supporting records still exist.”
“They do. My father used a solicitor outside the family organization.”
“Then find him.”
Dominic folded the letter carefully.
“I will.”
Elena extended her hand.
“Give me the original.”
He hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because it belongs to me until we know who can be trusted.”
For an instant, the old Dominic appeared.
The Boss.
The man accustomed to receiving whatever he requested.
Then he looked at Elena's bandaged shoulder.
He remembered the men who had attempted to take her.
He remembered the note inside the abandoned car.
And he understood that the letter wasn't his merely because it concerned his family.
He handed it back.
Elena slipped it into the envelope.
“Thank you,” she said.
He almost laughed at the formality.
“Are you leaving again?”
“Yes.”
His chest tightened.
“Where will you go?”
“I haven't decided.”
“Let me protect you.”
She looked at him steadily.
“You can protect me without owning my decisions.”
He bowed his head.
“All right.”
“I mean it, Dominic. I won't return to the estate. I won't resume our marriage because you're frightened of losing me. And I won't pretend Francesca was the only problem.”
He took a slow breath.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
He met her gaze.
“I am beginning to.”
The admission was small, but it was honest.
Elena rose carefully, guarding her injured shoulder.
Dominic stood too.
For a moment, they faced each other across the narrow space between the chairs.
He wanted to hold her.
He wanted to apologize until she believed him.
He wanted to promise that the man she remembered still existed, and that he could become that man again.
Instead, he asked, “Is there anything you need?”
Elena considered the question.
“No.”
He nodded.
“Then I'll go.”
She looked surprised.
He walked to the door, stopped, and turned back.
“Elena?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever decide you want to speak to me again, I will answer.”
She held his gaze.
“You should have done that before I left.”
He had no response.
Dominic left the room without touching her.
For the first time since she had known him, he walked away from Elena without demanding a promise, issuing an order, or insisting that the last word belonged to him.
Outside, Matteo waited beside the car.
“Well?”
Dominic looked toward the clinic window.
“She isn't coming home.”
Matteo nodded.
“Then what are you going to do?”
Dominic opened the car door, then stopped.
“Find the truth.”
“And after that?”
He looked at the envelope visible through the window, where Elena had returned it to her suitcase.
“After that, I will have to discover whether I can become someone she might choose again.”
Matteo studied him for several seconds.
“That's a start.”
Dominic climbed into the car.
He had come to Milwaukee believing he needed to find his wife.
He was leaving with a far more difficult task.
He needed to understand why she had stopped believing in him.
And somewhere in Chicago, Francesca Vale had disappeared with evidence that could prove the Bellandi family's greatest enemy had been inside its walls for years.
Dominic's phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered.
“Mr. Bellandi,” a woman's voice said. “My name is Francesca Vale.”
His blood went cold.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“To tell you that your uncle knows Elena has your father's letter.”
Dominic gripped the phone.
“How?”
“Because the people who attacked your warehouses have been searching for it for months. I helped them without understanding what they were planning.”
“Helped them how?”
She swallowed.
“I passed along information from our sessions. I thought I was exposing the men who killed my brother. I was wrong.”
Dominic's voice dropped.
“Where is Vittorio?”
“I don't know. But he has Enzo's records, and he has people inside your organization.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because he has ordered someone to kill Elena if she refuses to surrender the letter.”
Dominic felt the world narrow to that single sentence.
“Who?”
“I don't know the name. I have a message, a location, and a time.”
“Send them to me.”
“I will. But you need to understand something first.”
“What?”
Francesca's voice broke.
“Vittorio doesn't want the letter because it proves he betrayed your family. He wants it because your father left something out of it.”
The call disconnected.
Dominic stared at his phone.
May you like
For the second time in twelve hours, someone had told him that his father had kept a secret from his sons.
And this time, the secret might determine whether Elena lived long enough to decide if she ever wanted to see him again.
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