Chapter 7
Dominic had a son.
That was the new wound.
No one knew the name.
Not Teresa.
Not Dante.
Not Javier.
Sebastian refused to say it over the phone.
“He’s listening.”
“Who?” Dante asked.
“The son.”
“Then tell me anyway.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants you suspicious of everyone.”
Dante almost smiled bitterly.
“He’s succeeding.”
Sebastian continued.
“Dominic raised him outside the Romano name.”
“Why?”
“So Salvatore wouldn’t see him as competition.”
“Age?”
“Forty-four.”
Three years older than Javier.
Three years younger than Dante.
Old enough to have lived around them unnoticed.
Clara spoke.
“Did he grow up near the family?”
“Yes.”
That changed everything.
Not a stranger.
Someone who knew Leo’s garden.
The barbecue.
The old house.
Someone who could open the door and hand a child a chess piece.
“Name,” Javier demanded.
Sebastian refused.
“Mateo will tell you.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“The lakeside chapel.”
Dante knew it.
A Romano property no longer used.
“Time?”
“Six.”
The call ended.
Javier stared at nothing.
Clara touched his arm.
He pulled away.
Not from her.
From feeling.
Dante recognized it.
“Don’t.”
Javier looked at him.
“What?”
“Turn this into anger because hope scares you.”
Javier laughed bitterly.
“Now you’re giving advice?”
“Yes.”
“After twenty-seven years?”
“Yes.”
The answer was too simple to fight.
Javier sat.
Then looked toward the hallway.
“Leo.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“What?”
Javier stood.
“I need to apologize.”
“Not tonight.”
“Dante.”
“No.”
Javier’s face tightened.
Dante continued.
“He does not owe you access because you feel guilty.”
Clara looked at Dante.
That mattered.
Javier lowered his eyes.
“What do I do?”
“Wait until he’s ready.”
“How will I know?”
“You ask.”
Javier nodded.
For a man raised in their family, permission could be more difficult than violence.
The next morning, Dante changed security.
Not more men.
Different assumptions.
Every adult entering the children’s wing had to be personally recognized by Mia or Leo’s caregivers.
No unfamiliar “old friends.”
No inherited authority.
No family title that overrode a locked door.
Leo noticed.
“Why are there fewer uncles?”
Dante almost laughed.
“Because some uncles aren’t uncles.”
Leo accepted that better than adults did.
At noon, Maria approached Dante.
“There’s someone you should speak to.”
“Who?”
“Clara.”
Dante frowned.
“She’s in the east sitting room.”
Clara waited alone.
Javier was elsewhere.
She looked exhausted.
“What happened?”
“He lied again.”
Dante sat.
“About?”
“The caller.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“He knew more?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Clara did.
Three months ago, the anonymous contact did not merely tell Javier about Mateo.
He offered Javier a bargain.
Help remove Dante from leadership.
Mateo would return.
Dante stared.
“Javier agreed?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I found the burner phone.”
“Messages?”
“Voice recordings.”
Clara had listened.
Javier repeatedly refused to move directly against Dante.
But he did agree to one thing.
Create pressure around Leo.
Dante went still.
“What pressure?”
“Make the family question whether an eight-year-old should already be treated as future bloodline.”
Dante’s voice became cold.
“He used my son politically.”
“Yes.”
Clara’s eyes filled with anger.
“He told himself he was challenging succession.”
“How?”
“Small comments.”
At dinners.
To cousins.
Leo was too soft.
Dante spoiled him.
Mia had more courage.
The next generation was weak.
Javier had been planting a narrative.
Then the barbecue.
The black knight.
His resentment exploded into direct abuse.
“He didn’t plan to pin Leo down,” Clara said.
“That does not matter.”
“I know.”
Dante stared at the wall.
The anonymous man had not needed to order violence.
He simply fed Javier an old wound and gave it a target.
Exactly how Salvatore manipulated people.
Exactly how Dominic’s son might operate.
“Why tell me?”
Clara looked at him.
“Because Javier won’t.”
“Why?”
“He’s ashamed.”
“Good.”
Clara’s expression hardened.
“Shame hidden becomes another secret.”
Dante looked at her.
She was right.
Again women in the family understood consequences faster than men defending pride.
“Where is the phone?”
“I brought it.”
She placed it on the table.
Dante did not immediately take it.
“Does Javier know?”
“No.”
“That’s a problem.”
Clara looked surprised.
Dante continued.
“You took it from him.”
“Yes.”
“You need truth from him, not me using your marriage as a window.”
Clara stared.
Then slowly nodded.
“I thought you’d want everything.”
“I do.”
He looked toward the children’s hallway.
“I’m trying to stop wanting it at any cost.”
Clara picked the phone back up.
“I’ll tell him.”
That afternoon Javier came to Dante.
No excuses.
“I used Leo.”
“Yes.”
“I told myself words weren’t harm.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
Javier’s eyes darkened.
“I don’t know how to undo it.”
“You don’t.”
He looked at Dante.
“You stop repeating it.”
Silence.
Then Javier placed the burner phone on the table himself.
“Take it.”
Dante did.
Not because Clara had stolen it.
Because Javier chose.
The latest saved voice message was from the anonymous man.
Dante played it.
The voice was no longer altered.
It said:
“Tomorrow, Mateo comes home.”
Dante froze.
He recognized the voice.
He had heard it every morning for twelve years.
May you like
His own head of household security.
Michael Crane.
