“Why don’t you correct them?”
Dom’s eyes narrow. “It almost sounds like you care about Luca.”
I take a breath before I respond. “I care about justice. For my father. And this lie puts Luca and his family in danger.”
Dom shakes his head. “No. They won’t act against him without my?—”
“You just said that the FBI targets disgruntled family members and uses them to hurt La Corona.” I want to throttle him.
It’s not just Luca’s life at stake, it’s my children’s lives if it got out he was their father.
God, what better way to hurt him than to hurt his kids?
“Because I don’t really know. All I have is conjecture. No proof. And because I need their loyalty to protect you and your kids.”
Should I tell him the truth?
That the kids are more at risk if they want to hurt Luca?
I look at my children, innocent and unaware of the dark legacy they've inherited.
What will I tell them someday?
That their grandfather was murdered by their great-uncle?
That I kept them from their father because of a lie?
"Elena," Dom says softly, "the more time passes, the more people will forget or die. This will fade into the past. Right now, we need to focus on the present. Someone is still targeting La Corona, and they're getting bolder."
“It doesn’t seem fair to Luca or his family.”
“Luca and his family are fine. Don’t go making waves in what are currently calm waters between the families. What I’ve told you stays between us.” He gives me a stern stare.
The one that says there’s no questioning him. “I mean it, Elena. I’ve shared more than I should have. I trust you. Don’t tell anyone, not even my men, what I’ve shared with you.”
“I won’t.”
Later that night, once home and after I’ve tucked my children into bed, I pour another glass of wine.
Sitting on the couch, the conversation with Dom replays in my mind. Uncle Aldo may have orchestrated my father's arrest and his death. On the one hand, I’m not surprised.
My uncle was ruthless in business, including killing to get what he wanted.
On the other hand, I’m completely poleaxed.
I take a long sip of wine to settle the nerves when I consider what he would have done if he’d known I was carrying Luca’s children.
It would have been the perfect way to hurt him and Don Monti.
Plus, he’d have seen it as another threat, a Monti-Vitale union outside his control.
I was right to keep them a secret.
I pick up the framed photo from the side table, the triplets at their fourth birthday, chocolate cake smeared across their faces.
I see clear as day how much they resemble Luca. How Dom hasn't seen it is beyond me.
Or perhaps he has and chooses silence. Just like he chooses to keep his suspicions about his father to himself.
