Chapter 8 - The Truth Hidden in the Christmas BoxDominic survived the gunshot.
The bullet had passed through his side without striking a major organ, but the doctor who treated him warned that another few inches would have made the difference between recovery and a funeral.
Michael was taken to a private medical facility under heavy guard.
I remained beside Dominic until the doctor insisted that he rest.
Then I went to find my daughter.
Rosie was waiting in the townhouse living room, wearing pink pajamas and clutching her red crayon.
The moment she saw me, she ran into my arms.
“Mommy!”
I knelt and held her so tightly that she squeaked.
“I'm here, sweetheart.”
“Did you find Daddy?”
I nodded.
Rosie went completely still.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Her lips trembled.
“Is he coming home?”
I swallowed.
“Not tonight. He's very sick, and he needs time to get better.”
She considered that answer.
Then she looked past me.
“Where's Mr. Dominic?”
I glanced toward the staircase.
“He was hurt, too.”
Rosie immediately hurried toward the study, where Dominic lay on a temporary hospital bed.
The guards tried to stop her.
Dominic raised one hand.
“Let her through.”
Rosie approached carefully.
“You're bleeding.”
“Not anymore.”
“Mommy says lying is bad.”
Dominic blinked.
“Your mommy is right.”
“Then why did you say you weren't bleeding?”
A tired smile crossed his face.
“Because I didn't want you to worry.”
Rosie studied him.
Then she held out a small paper Christmas tree she'd made that afternoon.
“You can have this until you get better.”
Dominic accepted it.
The tree was crooked, decorated with mismatched stars, and held together with so much tape that it barely resembled paper.
He placed it on the bedside table.
“I'll keep it safe.”
Rosie nodded seriously.
“Good. It has my best star.”
For several seconds, Dominic looked at the little tree without speaking.
Then his phone rang.
Bruno entered the room holding a tablet.
“Boss, we found the men who attacked Hawthorne. They're connected to Carlo's private security company.”
“And Rosie?”
“Safe. We've doubled protection around the townhouse.”
“Not enough,” Michael said from the doorway.
He had insisted on leaving the medical facility despite barely being able to walk.
Dominic frowned.
“You should be in bed.”
“And you should listen.”
Michael looked at me.
“Claire, do you remember the Christmas box I gave you the year Rosie was two?”
I shook my head slowly.
“The one with the wooden music box?”
“Yes. There was something else inside it.”
I remembered a tiny velvet pouch that I had assumed contained a cheap charm.
“I thought it was empty.”
“It wasn't.”
Michael reached inside his shirt and produced a folded photograph.
It showed a small brass key attached to a metal tag.
317.
My breath caught.
“The locker.”
Michael nodded.
“The locker held enough evidence to expose Carlo's operation, but not everything. The key was a decoy. The original records are hidden elsewhere.”
Dominic sat up despite the doctor's warnings.
“Where?”
Michael looked toward the door to ensure no one else was listening.
“Inside the one place Carlo never thought anyone would search.”
“Which is?”
Michael looked directly at me.
“Novak's Bakery.”
I stared at him.
“You're telling me you worked there?”
“No. But it's where I met the man who helped me hide the original ledger.”
Dominic's face hardened.
“Who?”
Michael's answer came quietly.
“Your mother.”
The room fell silent.
Dominic's mother, Isabella Moretti, was the one person in the family whom he never allowed anyone to threaten.
She was also the woman he had been visiting Bergman's to buy a birthday present for.
Dominic reached for his phone.
“Call my mother.”
Michael caught his wrist.
“There's something you need to know first.”
Dominic looked at him.
“What?”
Michael's eyes filled with shame.
“Your mother didn't just hide the ledger.”
He swallowed.
May you like
“She helped me disappear.”
And before Dominic could ask another question, every light in the townhouse went out.
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