21. Dominic
Dominic
I come tearing up the driveway, tires screeching.
Mom’s already in the doorway. Someone must’ve called from the gate.
My father still insists on guards, gates, and staff, like some feudal lord.
“And in this mansion they barely use, they seem to occupy less and less of it each year.
Mom spends most days in her sitting room or on the terrace.
Dad hides in his study like some exiled king, surrounded by books, silence, and the illusion of control.
“Is everything alright, darling?” she asks, pulling me into a hug. She smells of lavender and old comfort, soft and familiar, and when her arms close around me, I feel the years pull tight.
“I’m here to talk to him. Business stuff. Don’t worry.”
“Dominic, you never come here to talk business with your father. What happened?”
I pause and stroke her hair, trying to calm her. But my whole body feels like a drawn bowstring. She senses it, of course.
“It’s kind of urgent. But it’s just money, Mom. You know, we never agree on business. We’ll argue a little and sort it out. Wait for me on the terrace? I’d love to have a slice of cake with you.”
She steps back, searching my face. Her hand lingers on my arm for a second longer than usual. “Dominic, he’s still your father. Don’t ever forget that.”
My fist tightens before I can stop it. Nails dig into my palm.
That man doesn’t know how lucky he is. I turn and walk off, fast strides echoing through the marble halls.
I didn’t want to face him, and I’ve been avoiding this, knowing it wouldn’t change anything.
Last night, I told the Rosehill investors I was pulling out.
That approvals would be blocked. I’m working with the mayor to shut it down.
I’m guessing one of them already tipped him off.
I waited for his call. The outburst. But it never came.
He’s playing it safe. He knows if he pushes too hard, I’ll cut him out completely.
What he doesn’t know is that I’ve already hit my limit.
I’m only here for one reason, to protect Mom.
I’m giving him one last chance. A clean exit.
He steps back, quietly, and I cover the mess behind him.
I’m shutting down the Rosehill deal by giving the partners another property from our portfolio.
It’s going to cost millions, but that’s on me.
Lena trusted me. And I let her down. If I don’t fix this today, I might lose her.
My lawyers are already drafting the contracts.
My father and I have one last shot today to keep this civil.
I can fix this if he agrees to step down. Quietly. No scandal. But I’m not holding my breath. He’s too proud, too desperate to stay close to the power. I can already hear his voice in my head. Raspy, arrogant, smug.
Cigar smoke hits me before I reach the door to his study. I push it open without knocking. He’s there, slouched in his favorite armchair, a glass of cognac in hand, that same bored expression on his face. He lifts his gaze slowly, sizing me up with the cold, critical stare I’ve hated my whole life.
“So, you decided to pay your old man a visit finally?” he says, smirking. “What’s the special occasion?”
I try to keep my cool, but every muscle in my body tightens.
“I know you didn’t come for anything pleasant,” he adds, waving a hand like my presence is some minor inconvenience. “You barely make time for your mother.”
My jaw clenches hard. “Leave her out of this.”
He arches a brow, that smug little twitch forming at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe if you showed up more often, she wouldn’t have gotten sick.”
Classic deflection. He’s trying to put me on the defensive. But he forgets that I learned how to play this game from the best. I know every move in his playbook.
Fine. Let him push a little. I’ll push back harder. I lean across the desk, cutting the space between us.
“And you?” I say. “Do you think you were some great role model? You, who chased money and power like a starving dog?”
He stays quiet. Drinking in my rage like it’s his favorite scotch. I hold his gaze, daring him to say something. Let it all rise.
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you? The real estate projects and the press disaster waiting to explode. You dragged our name into a storm that could level this whole damn city. So, tell me. How exactly do you plan to clean that up?”
He crosses his legs with slow, smug ease, like this is all beneath him.
“Me? You signed the final approvals,” he says, voice slick with poison. “Don’t play innocent now, Dominic. You want to be the head of the family? Then learn to take the hits. Fall from grace. Own your shit. That’s what you never learned—how to take the fall.”
I slam my hand down on the desk. Hard. Papers jump.
“No. I don’t even think this was sabotage.
You’re not clever enough to sabotage me on purpose.
You just don’t know how to run a business.
You didn’t vet the deal. You didn’t do your homework.
Arrogance and incompetence. And me?” I throw the words at him. “I trusted you.”
He shrugs, sips his drink like none of these matter. “That was your first mistake, son.”
I’m breathing too fast. He sees it. His eyes narrow. He’s pushing me. Daring me to snap. He wants to win. I force myself to calm down.
“My lawyers are drawing up a full exit agreement,” I say, voice steady again.
“You’ll step down from everything Monti-related.
We’ll inform the board. We’ll throw you a retirement party.
Invite the whole damn city if you want. Mom’s going to be thrilled.
We’ll slap your name on the next hotel tower.
Alice will run the press. You’ll go out like a legend. ”
I give him a second to swallow that. Then I continue. “A month of noise. Then you disappear from the public face of the Monti empire. And you can live however the hell you want.”
He leans back, putting distance between us so he can look me straight in the eye. “No.” Then smirks, sips his cognac, and taps ash off his cigar like he’s dismissing a child.
I lean forward, fists pressing into the wood of his desk. “Then we move to Plan B. Not your favorite—mine. I’ll throw you out myself,” I say, each syllable heavy, final. “Everyone will know the truth. That you didn’t retire, you were cut out and cast aside. Banished.”
My voice hardens. “You won’t play golf with your precious snobs anymore. You won’t light cigars and pretend you still matter. I’m not just taking you out of the company. I’m ripping you out of your world.”
I make sure he hears every word before I twist the knife. “You’ll stay home and water the plants and keep Mom company. Because out here, in the real world… you’re done.”
I see his eyes darken. He jumps to his feet, slamming his glass onto the desk and waving his cigar like a weapon.
“You ungrateful little bastard!” he explodes.
“You stole my place! I raised you! I fucking trained you to lead this family with me! And now you’re throwing me out like hired help?”
I don’t even blink. “I never liked the way you led anything. You’ve always been a greedy, ruthless bastard. I built this family’s success on my own terms, not through filth and betrayal like you.”
His hands are shaking now. Good. I hit a nerve. The one buried under decades of ego and rot.
“You’ve been a curse on this family,” I snap. “Axel enlisted because of you. You mocked him, humiliated him. You told him he wasn’t man enough. Every goddamn day.”
I step forward, my rage cutting through me like glass. “Axel was better than me—better than you by a mile—and you couldn’t stand it!”
His face twists with pure rage. “Yeah, and for someone so damn great, he still ended up dead!” he spits.
“If you’d really cared, if you’d been the man you were supposed to be, you wouldn’t have frozen like a rookie. You left him wide open. Let him take the bullet meant for you.”
I lose it. My fist lashes out, smashing a crystal globe off his desk. It shatters, glass spraying across the floor. I slam my palm down again, hard. A pen rolls off. The whole desk trembles.
“I trusted you, you son of a bitch!” I yell.
He just smiles. A slow, cold predator’s grin. He sinks back into his chair, satisfied. He got what he wanted. Me on the edge.
“That’s your problem, Dominic. You trust people. You actually think the world rewards goodness. That business is built on honor and rules.”
He leans across the desk, his voice low, loaded with mockery.
“And now? You’re risking everything… for some second-rate journalist who probably fooled you with her long legs and a few bleeding-heart sob stories?
Don’t think I don’t see it. You’re doing all of this for her.
And for those miserable strays she’s so desperate to protect. ”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“That girl is just as much bad luck as her grandmother ever was,” he continues, then grins. “That’s right. Grace. The city’s darling. Arrogant and full of herself.”
“How the hell do you know Grace?” I snarl. Then it hits. My stomach drops. “You tried something with her, didn’t you? Is that why you hate Lena?”
He scoffs. “Don’t be an idiot. Unlike you, I don’t mess around with the kind of rabble who lack education, culture, or taste.”
I stare him down. “So… Grace turned you down. And here I was thinking… if you were a terrible father, maybe you were at least a decent husband.”
The door creaks open. Mom stands in the frame. Pale, composed, but her eyes blaze with fury.
“Grace was my friend,” she says, her voice low and deadly calm. “Your father... had his failures. But he chose to be a husband. He tried to be a father. And I will not have the past dragged through this house like dirt.”
She pauses, breath shaking. “That’s enough. Both of you.”
A demon inside me snaps free. I’ve been silent for too long. These things, these buried truths, they’ve eaten away at me. And now I’m going to burn them all down.
Dad doesn’t stop, either. He never does. He knows exactly where to strike. “Look at her,” he sneers, nodding at Mom. “You’re upsetting your mother. She’s ill. And you? You’re playing at marriage with the first cheap little social climber who figured out how to stroke your ego between the sheets.”
His voice is cold, calm, like he’s savoring the blow. “If her condition worsens, that’s on you. Well done, son. Another prize for your collection of screw-ups.”
Mom lets out a sharp breath and takes a step forward. Too late. I feel a red curtain drop over my vision. I grab his cognac glass and hurl it against the desk. It explodes at his feet.
“You bastard,” I growl. “You’re no man. You killed your own son out of jealousy.”
His eyes flash, but I keep going, voice shaking with fury. “Axel told me on one of our missions that he didn’t enlist because of duty. You pushed him. You couldn’t stand the attention Mom gave him. You sent him away to die, just to be the only man left in her life. That’s how sick you are.”
“No, Dominic. You killed him. With your negligence. Your incompetence,” he snaps. “Your mother trusted you to protect him. And you let him die. Be a man, for once, and take responsibility.”
I slam both fists onto the heavy desk. Objects scatter and fall. He jerks back, stepping back toward the shelves like I might come at him. I circle the desk, chest heaving, ready to shut him up for good.
“Enough!” Mom’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. Clear, high, and trembling with authority.
“Both of you, stop!”
We freeze, still breathing hard. The fury still crackles between us like lightning waiting to strike again.
But then I see her. She’s pale. Her hand’s gripping the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
Her finger lifts slowly to her temple like the whole room is crushing her.
“Mom…?” My voice cracks.
She sways. I’m at her side in two seconds, catching her before she falls. Her skin is cold against my fingers.
“Dom… It’s bad…” she whispers.
“Stay with me. Don’t move. Just breathe,” I say, cradling her.
Then I shout, loud enough to shake the walls: “Call a fucking ambulance! Now!”
My father stands frozen, stunned and useless. I lower Mom onto the couch, her head in my lap, my arms wrapped around her. My hands move through her hair, trying to pretend this isn’t happening, while my heart’s beating like it’s trying to outrun this moment.
“Deep breaths. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. Over and over.
I feel her slipping away, and terror takes hold of me. I don’t remember how we got to the ambulance. Everything’s a blur. Flashing lights, frantic voices, sirens wailing, sharp and unbearable.
I’m in the back, holding her hand between both of mine, gripping as if I can keep her anchored to this world. Violetta is waiting at the hospital. Gabriel too. She’s hooked up to machines, breathing through a tube. Unconscious. Motionless.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, fingers trembling. It’s Lena. A text: “Dominic, where are you? Are you okay?”
Then another: “Please answer me.”
I stare at the screen, the glow cutting through the dark inside the ambulance.
I grip the phone tightly, then type with fingers still stiff from shock: “Wait for me.”
That’s all I can manage now with my mother lying pale on the gurney, while the medics fight to keep her here.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and clasp her hand again, tighter this time. Outside, the city lights blur past like falling stars. And I pray. For my mother, slipping away beside me. For Lena, who might think I chose silence over her.
And for myself. So I don’t fall apart.