18. Lena #2
I watch his face, trying to catch any sign of surprise or frustration. Maybe even anger. But he listens without giving anything away. So I go on.
“I didn’t do it just for me. I knew that through you, I’d have access to real resources. As your wife, I could use that money to keep the shelter alive.”
Dominic blinks slowly. His face stays serious, with no trace of judgment. That gives me the courage to keep going.
“Recently, my grandmother’s house became the new shelter location.
I used the marriage again, and the fact that I was staying at the hotel with you, to free up the space.
We had to move fast. The city launched some real estate projects in the neighborhood where they’d been operating for years.
They were basically pushed out. I’m almost sure Anton was behind it. ”
I catch a shift in Dominic’s expression. His jaw tightens slightly. His eyes narrow a little. Still, he stays composed. “Why isn’t Valerie working with the police?”
I take a deeper breath. This one’s harder to explain. “Because a lot of these women have already been failed by the system. Lost files. Ignored complaints. Brushed-off threats. Sometimes, going to the authorities puts them in even more danger.”
Dominic closes his eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t respond, but I know that look. That quiet calculation, that frustration channeled straight into strategy.
“What’s Anton’s connection to the shelter?” he asks, voice heavier now.
“He probably knows Valerie helped a few women who accused him of harassment. Before he could pay them off, they vanished with the shelter’s help. Since then, he’s been nervous. Angry. He wants to destroy her. I’m sure of it.”
Dominic leans his head back, like he’s trying to collect his thoughts. And when he looks at me again, there’s no doubt left in his eyes.
“If this shelter matters to you,” he says, his voice firm now, “and if it’s one of the reasons you became Mrs. Monti, then let me do this right.”
He steps closer, putting a hand on my lower back, warm and reassuring. The gesture is simple, but it moves me more than I expect.
“Call Valerie,” he adds, eyes locked on mine.
I hold his gaze for a few seconds, moved by the quiet certainty in his voice. Then I nod and step into the hallway to get her.
A moment later, Valerie walks in beside me, looking slightly unsure. Dominic gets straight to the point.
“How many people do you usually shelter here?”
Valerie blinks twice, surprised by the question. “Between fifteen and twenty, depending on the week.”
“How many meals? How many beds?”
“Twenty beds… We provide three meals a day, plus the basics: milk, tea, coffee, hygiene products, cleaning supplies...”
Dominic’s already pulling out his phone. He dials without hesitation.
“Leo? Hi. I’ve got news. We’re starting something good today. But I need full discretion. Only you can know the destination—it’s Lena’s grandmother’s house."
His voice is calm. Commanding. “You’ll send three daily meals from the restaurant.
Sealed containers. Enough for twenty people.
Plus regular supplies: milk, tea, coffee, bed linens, towels, cleaning and hygiene stuff.
Yes, food every day, the rest weekly or monthly.
They will give us a list. I’ll send you the address. ”
He hangs up and looks at both of us. “Let me know if anything doesn’t work. But Leo’s the most reliable guy on the planet.”
Valerie stands there, mouth slightly open, stunned. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice shaky.
My throat tightens. I look at Dominic and, for the first time, I feel like I don’t have to fight this battle alone. He slips his hands into his pockets, totally relaxed. Like what he did was the most normal thing in the world.
“Violetta’s coming tomorrow,” he adds, almost offhand. “She is my sister. A doctor.”
“She’ll do checkups for anyone who needs it, make a list of meds needed, and come by regularly for follow-ups. You can call her for emergencies. She can help with hospital transfers, too.”
I stare at him. Moved not by the gesture, but by the way he makes something this big feel completely normal.
Dominic gives a quick, almost shy smile before continuing. “I’m also thinking about a different place. A bigger house. More secure. Maybe outside the city. With a yard, if possible. Somewhere harder to find.”
He pauses, then adds, with a flicker of uncertainty that only makes him feel more human: “And… I’d like you to think about whether you—Valerie—can trust me. And Damien. He’s a friend of mine. Works with the police.”
At the word police, Valerie flinches. He notices, but doesn’t push.
“We could start with a list,” Dominic says gently. “Names of the abusers from residents who feel safe enough to share them. First and last names.”
He crosses his arms, not to shut down, but to keep himself from coming on too strong.
“I’m not promising miracles. But guys like that rarely stop at one thing.
We might catch them with something else.
No one can hide that well forever. We have to start somewhere.
And there are good men in this city. Men willing to help make life easier for these women. Give us a chance.”
I know exactly what he means. The Protectors—Dominic, Gabriel, Damien, and the others. Ex-military friends who step in for special cases. What these women face is relentless. Helping them takes time, strength, money, and real support.
Valerie hugs him, then walks out, casting me a meaningful look on the way. I know that look. She’s moved.
I look at Dominic, and for a few seconds, I can’t speak. I’m just floored. By how much he wants to help. How easily he has my back. Without thinking, I step closer and wrap my arms around him.
He stiffens for a beat, then exhales, lowers his forehead to mine, and pulls me in. I close my eyes, and for the first time in days, I feel still inside.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice lost somewhere between us.
“For you? Anything,” Dominic murmurs, and his warm voice vibrating deep in his chest.
We stay like that for a few long seconds, breathing in sync, like the world outside has paused. When we finally pull apart, he brushes his fingers across my cheek and gives me a smile that completely disarms me.
Then, almost offhand: “Where was Valerie’s old shelter?” Like the question just drifted in.
“In Rosehill,” I reply automatically.
Then I see a slight jolt in his posture, barely there. Something in his expression shifts. Not sharply, more like a shadow moving across his face for a second. His eyes narrow slightly, like a new idea has lit up in his head.
“Rosehill…” he repeats.
“That’s where they’re building new residential units and a commercial center…” he adds, voice low, thoughtful.
I feel the tension tighten within him. It’s subtle, but real. His body still looks relaxed, but I know him well enough now to spot the storm underneath. He glances toward the door. I know what that look means. He’s leaving. I walk him out.
Outside, just the two of us, he pulls me into him. His arms close around me, not tight, but sure — like he knows I need this more than I’ll admit. He kisses the top of my head, breathing me in. Then, after a long breath, he asks, “What would it take for you to trust me?”
“Some secrets… aren’t mine to tell,” I whisper. “Valerie keeps this shelter hidden for a reason. Abusers are everywhere, in all layers of society. Life for women is hard, no matter how much we pretend to live in a civilized world. You’ve seen war. I’ve seen years of abuse in my investigations.”
His hand moves gently down my back, firm and soothing. “You know,” he says softly, “Leo looked into the university campus. The one you and Anton went to. We might have something. A former student, she’s a professor now, and he’s willing to talk.”
He waits for my reaction, then continues: “The university covered for Anton. Big money from the Rinaldi family. Officially, for ‘educational causes.’ But it’s all smoke. We can connect the dots. Find more witnesses. This could be a key part of the case that finally buries him.”
He looks at me, not demanding, but offering. “Let me help.”
God, Dominic is getting closer to the truth about my past with Anton, the part of my past I swore I’d never let define me.
“More victims thrown into the hell of exposure. When does it end?” My voice trembles, even as I try to hold it steady.
Dominic reaches for my hands, grounding me. “We can bring Damien in,” he says, calm but firm. “He’s good at what he does. He knows how to protect witnesses, people who come forward.”
I hesitate. I know he’s right, but the fear in me is old and sharp. The silence stretches between us. Then he asks what I’d been dreading.
“Was there more between you and Anton than what you’ve told me?”
I hold my breath. The truth is there, right at the edge of my lips. But saying it out loud might crack everything we’ve built. I swallow hard.
“There was… an altercation. Between me and Anton. We both got hurt. But it’s in the past now. What matters is stopping him before he hurts anyone else.”
The words scrape out of me, thin and brittle, like I’m not even convincing myself.
Dominic studies me for a long moment, like he’s weighing every piece of what I just said.
But he doesn’t push. And for that, I’m so damn grateful I could cry.
He lifts his hand slowly, brushing the back of his fingers along my cheek.
Then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear—like it’s his gesture now.
Familiar. Gentle. His way of saying I see you, I’ve got you.
“I can wait, Lena,” he says softly, almost painfully. “Even if every day without your trust is killing me.”
The weight of it breaks something loose in my chest. I lower my head and lean into him, resting my forehead against his chest, finding quiet in the steady rhythm of his heart.
We stay like that, a little pocket of calm in the chaos.
Then, gently, Dominic lifts my chin and kisses me.
When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead against mine for a second, eyes closed, like he wants to burn this moment into his memory.
“I’ll see you later, at home,” he murmurs.
He walks away—one step, then another—until he pauses, and turns slightly, like he might come back. He gives me one last, quiet smile then disappears down the path, and my heart just stalls, caught somewhere between ache and longing.
Behind me, the door creaks open. Lexi pokes her head out, scans the space, then steps closer and wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“Are you going to tell him?” she asks quietly. I shake my head, my voice barely audible.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “If he ever looks at me with pity, I’m done. I’ll lose him.”