Chapter Twelve
Dominic "Big Dom" Masters Sr.
The oxygen machine hummed in the corner of my study—a constant, wheezing reminder that the clock was running out on the man who had built this city from a pile of bricks and a dream.
I sat in my high-backed leather chair, a glass of top-shelf scotch sitting untouched on the desk.
My hands, once steady enough to thread a needle in a hurricane, were trembling—not from fear, but from the cancer eating its way through my lungs like a rat in a granary.
I looked out the window at the sprawling estate.
I had done the dirt so my children could walk on marble.
I had spilled enough blood to fill the Chattahoochee just so Dominic could sit in a boardroom instead of a jail cell.
However, looking at the surveillance footage from the docks and the warehouse, I realized my son was still too romantic.
He was reactive. He was emotional. And that was a luxury a king couldn't afford when the vultures were circling.
The door softly opened, and Elena stepped in.
My wife still moved with the grace of a woman half her age, her presence the only thing that could soothe the fire in my chest. She walked over, her hand resting on my shoulder, her eyes fixed on the blood-stained handkerchief in the trash bin.
She didn't say a word about my health; she knew I hated pity.
She just squeezed my shoulder silent anchor in the rising tide.
"Dominic is at the hospital with the girl," Elena said, her voice steady but laced with a mother's worry. "He's playing husband, Dom. He thinks he's ended it because he broke Luca's ribs and sent a message. He's young. He thinks a message is enough."
"A message only works if the person receiving it is still alive to tell the story, Elena," I rasped, the sound of my own voice like sandpaper against glass.
I looked up at her, seeing the strength in her eyes, the same strength I saw in Dominic, and the same strength I was starting to see in that ginger-haired girl.
"He's trying to be a 'refined' menace. He wants to keep his hands clean for her, but he doesn't realize that as long as those Vittis breathe, she's never truly safe."
Elena sighed, brushing the hair back from my forehead. "What are you going to do? You can barely stand, and the doctors say—"
"The doctors don't know the heart of a Masters," I interrupted, a sudden burst of energy hitting my chest. I hit the intercom. "Elias, get in here."
My head of security stepped into the room. He didn't look at the oxygen tank; he just stood at attention.
"Dominic is busy protecting his peace," I said, leaning back.
"But I'm the one who has to protect his future.
I'm not leaving my son a war; I'm leaving him a throne.
I want the slate wiped clean tonight. I want every head of the Vitti family neutralized.
I want the Romeros' shipping routes seized and their lieutenants erased.
I want every 'opp' who even thought about breathing Dominic's name in a disrespectful way to disappear into the Georgia clay. "
I coughed—a violent, racking sound. Elena moved to help me, but I waved her back. I had to finish this.
"I want him to wake up tomorrow morning to a city that is silent," I continued, my voice gaining a ghostly strength.
"I want him to be able to walk Donny Rae down the aisle without looking over his shoulder.
He thinks he's the menace, but he doesn't see what I'm capable of when I'm protecting my blood.
Go, Elias. Make sure the last thing they see is our crest before the lights go out. "
Elias nodded and disappeared. I sat there quietly, listening to the steady sound of the machine. Elena sat on the edge of the desk, taking my hand in hers. Her grip was a firm reminder that I wasn't doing this alone.
"Dominic's going to hate that you stepped in," she whispered. "He wants to earn his own respect."
"He can hate me all he wants, as long as he's alive to do it," I replied.
I picked up the phone and dialed my son's private line. It went to voicemail.
"Dominic," I spoke into the recording, "I know you think you're a man now.
You are, but you're still my son. I'm cleaning up the kitchen tonight, boy.
When you wake up, the world is gonna be yours.
Don't waste it. Marry that girl. Give me a grandson who has your eyes and her heart.
Take the empire and lead it into the light, because I've spent my whole life in the dark making sure you could find the way out. "
I hung up and reached for the scotch, finally taking a sip.
Elena watched me, a sad, proud smile on her face.
I looked at her, my beautiful wife, and felt a strange sense of peace.
The empire was secure. The enemies were falling like autumn leaves.
My work was almost done. I leaned my head back, the oxygen mask hissing a steady rhythm, and watched the city I'd built glow in the distance.
Dominic was the king now, and I was just the man making sure his throne stayed clean.