Chapter 7
Bianca filed for a temporary protective order.
Not against Emma.
Against Domenico.
The petition quoted his words from the reception.
I’m not marrying someone who’s about to die.
Her attorney argued that Bianca feared retaliation because she had challenged Domenico inside a powerful organized-crime family.
The judge granted a short-term no-contact order pending a hearing.
Ethan was furious.
Domenico was not.
“Follow it.”
“You understand she’s going to use your reputation.”
“She should.”
Ethan looked at him.
Domenico continued.
“I said something that sounds exactly like a death threat.”
“You were protecting your daughter.”
“I can protect my daughter without saying stupid things.”
That answer surprised Ethan.
It surprised Domenico too.
The court order created an unexpected consequence.
Domenico could not personally pressure Bianca for documents or explanations.
Everything now had to go through attorneys.
Slowly.
Formally.
Recorded.
That turned out to be useful.
Bianca produced text messages to prove she had not acted alone.
She intended them as a defense.
They implicated Helena.
One exchange from six weeks earlier read:
BIANCA: He’ll never agree if we present it as removing Emma.
HELENA: Then don’t present it that way.
BIANCA: What do I call it?
HELENA: Reorganizing the family floor after the marriage.
Another:
BIANCA: He lets that child interrupt everything.
HELENA: He is grieving through her. It isn’t healthy for either of them.
Another:
BIANCA: If I’m expected to become his wife, I won’t live beneath a three-year-old.
Helena’s response:
You shouldn’t have to.
Domenico read that sentence several times.
Ethan said nothing.
Domenico finally asked, “Why would Bianca voluntarily produce this?”
“Because she thinks it spreads responsibility.”
“She’s right.”
Helena had not shoved Emma.
Helena had not stomped the project.
Helena had not threatened an orphanage.
But she had validated the philosophy underneath all of it.
Domenico asked his aunt to move out of the estate while the review continued.
Helena stared at him.
“This is my family home.”
“No. It’s my home.”
“I practically raised you.”
“I know.”
“And this is what that means now?”
Domenico looked at her.
“This means my daughter doesn’t live under the same roof as someone who helped another adult make her feel unwelcome in it.”
For the first time, Helena looked genuinely wounded.
May you like
Domenico did not enjoy it.
He did it anyway.
