“Apparently, Ricci had handed over a journal to Isabella in exchange for dirt on you.”
What the fuck?
“Isabella called her out on it. Accusing her of being worse than us for using her mother’s death to gain information. I guess it worked, because Isabella got the notebook without handing over information. But it appears Ricci wants to see the notebook for what it might have about Ernie and Sal, and who their handler was.”
“I thought it was Blackwood,” I say.
Luca shrugs. “What I want to know is why would Ricci suddenly care about a decade-old murder and a kidnapping we handled internally?"
The question hangs between us, but I already know the answer. Because I put the idea in her head that night in her apartment.
I created this problem.
"I'll handle it. I’ll find out what she knows."
What I don't say is how I plan to do that. Or how the thought of seeing her again makes my heart race in ways that have nothing to do with self-preservation.
"Just be careful," Luca warns. "This feels different."
He's right. It is different. Because this time, I'm compromised in ways I never thought possible.
I follow Luca back to the dining room, where Elena has transformed the space into a Thanksgiving wonderland.
"Uncle Dom, sit by me!" Adalina pats the chair beside her, shooting her brothers a triumphant look.
I settle in, watching Rocco and Elio's faces fall before I wink at them. "Don't worry, boys. I'm saving room for both of you after dessert."
Their faces light up instantly. Kids are so easy to please. They’re honest in their emotions, transparent in their needs.
Nothing like the complicated world of adults where someone like Olivia can make me feel things I've never felt before, then disappear completely.
Elena places the turkey at the center of the table, beaming as Luca stands to carve it.
They exchange a look, private, intimate. I realize this is their first Thanksgiving as a family. Suddenly, I feel like an interloper.
"Dom, will you lead the toast?" Elena asks, handing me a glass of wine.
I raise my glass, looking around at these faces I've known my entire life. "To family. The one thing that never changes, even when everything else does."
The triplets clink their juice glasses enthusiastically against mine, spilling drops on the tablecloth.
As we eat, I let the warmth of family wash over me.
Rocco tells me about his soccer team while Elio interrupts with tales from school.
Adalina quietly slips her hand into mine between courses, a gesture so trusting it nearly breaks me.
This is what matters. This constancy, this belonging. The empire I've built means nothing without people to share it with.
Yet even surrounded by family, thoughts of Olivia intrude. Would she laugh at Rocco's jokes? Would she help Adalina cut her turkey? Would she look at me across this table and see something more than a criminal?
I catch Elena watching me. "You seem distracted.”
I force a smile. "Just business."
But it's not business that's carved this hollow space inside me. It's the absence of someone who was never really mine to begin with.
I push it away to focus on the here and now. Being with my cousin and her family. Celebrating our blessings. Health. Wealth. Family.
