Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT ELENA TRIED TO LEAVE
Elena packed two suitcases in April.
I found them near the staff staircase.
That alone told me how badly I had failed to notice what was happening.
“You’re leaving.”
She turned.
Mia was asleep upstairs.
The house was quiet.
“Yes.”
I stared at the bags.
“Why?”
Her expression tightened.
“That question is exactly why.”
I did not understand.
She saw it.
“Dominic, every person in New York knows who we are now.”
“That will fade.”
“Men followed Mia’s nursery route because of you.”
“My uncle caused that.”
“Because of you.”
The words landed.
Not cruel.
True.
She continued.
“I know you changed things.”
“Then—”
“Let me finish.”
I shut up.
A rare event.
“I know you dismantled operations. I know Vittorio is gone. Vincent is gone. I know you’ve done everything you can.”
Her eyes filled.
“But I wake up at three in the morning thinking I hear a car outside.”
I said nothing.
“Mia screams when taxis stop too close.”
My chest tightened.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
There it was again.
The reason.
“You don’t know because she stops before breakfast.”
Elena wiped her cheek.
“She’s three. Children recover fast on the outside.”
“And inside?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked toward the stairs.
“What does she need?”
“Normal.”
I almost laughed.
Nothing about my house was normal.
Eighteen bedrooms.
Security cameras.
Armored garage.
Staff.
Men calling me boss.
“She deserves to walk to school without two armed SUVs.”
I nodded slowly.
“She deserves birthday parties where other parents don’t Google her last name and cancel.”
That hurt.
It had happened once already.
Elena continued.
“And I need to know I can build something that doesn’t depend on your protection.”
I looked at the suitcases.
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
“Where in Connecticut?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“See?”
I almost smiled.
“Occupational habit.”
“My cousin has a place near Stamford. I found an apartment.”
“You found an apartment.”
“Yes.”
“Job?”
“Interview.”
“What job?”
“Hotel housekeeping supervisor.”
I stared.
“You hate hotel management.”
“I hate being poor more.”
“You are not—”
I stopped.
She looked at me.
Good.
Money was the easiest weapon I could accidentally use.
I chose my next words carefully.
“You could work anywhere.”
“I know.”
“So why there?”
“Because they don’t care who Dominic Moretti is.”
That was fair.
Too fair.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
My chest tightened.
“You planned to leave without telling me.”
“I planned to tell you tonight.”
“Mia?”
“She knows we’re moving.”
I looked toward the stairs.
“Does she want to?”
Elena closed her eyes.
“That isn’t fair.”
“I asked a question.”
“She wants you.”
The answer hurt worse than no.
Elena continued.
“She also wants Miss Rose, chocolate milk and a pony. She is three.”
“So you decide.”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“You’re her mother.”
“Thank you.”
I hated the formality.
“What do you want me to do?”
Elena stared.
“Nothing.”
I almost laughed.
“Impossible.”
“I mean it.”
“No security?”
“One car.”
I blinked.
She smiled faintly.
“I’m not stupid.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Dominic.”
“One and a panic system.”
She considered.
“Fine.”
“School route audit.”
“Once.”
“Monthly.”
“Once.”
I looked offended.
She almost smiled.
Then silence returned.
“Can I visit?”
Her expression softened.
“For Mia?”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
I looked at her.
There were a thousand answers.
I chose the one that cost the most.
“Only if you want me to.”
Her eyes filled again.
“Okay.”
“Okay yes?”
“Okay, I’ll decide.”
I hated democracy.
But I nodded.
The next morning, Mia came downstairs wearing a pink backpack.
Miss Rose stuck out of the top.
She saw me.
“Dominic.”
“Morning.”
“We go new house.”
“I heard.”
“You come?”
Elena stopped behind her.
I crouched.
“No.”
Mia’s face collapsed.
“Why?”
“Because it’s your house with Mommy.”
“You live there too.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Children should not be allowed to ask questions adults spend lifetimes avoiding.
I looked at Elena.
Then back at Mia.
“Because your mommy needs some space.”
Mia frowned.
“We have space.”
I almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“Big house.”
“Very big.”
“Then stay.”
My throat tightened.
Elena knelt beside her.
“Mia.”
The child looked between us.
“Dominic sad?”
“No,” I said too quickly.
She stared.
“You lie bad.”
Elena covered her mouth.
I sighed.
“Maybe a little.”
Mia hugged me.
Hard.
Three-year-old arms around my neck.
Miss Rose pressed into my shoulder.
“Come Saturday.”
I closed my eyes.
“If Mommy says yes.”
Mia pulled back.
“Mommy.”
Elena smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
Mia looked triumphant.
“Saturday.”
I nodded.
“Saturday.”
They left.
I stood in the doorway until the car disappeared.
The house became silent.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
I walked into the ballroom.
The grand piano waited.
Dustless now because Mia touched it almost every day.
I sat.
For fifteen years, I had not played.
Francesca had taught me one song when we were children.
Simple.
Four chords.
I placed my hands on the keys.
The first note sounded wrong.
So did the second.
I kept going.
By Saturday, I could play thirty seconds without stopping.
I drove myself to Connecticut.
No convoy.
One security car far enough behind Elena wouldn’t complain.
Mia opened the apartment door.
“DOMINIC!”
She dragged me inside.
Small living room.
Secondhand couch.
Crayons everywhere.
Elena stood in the kitchen.
“You came.”
“I was summoned.”
Mia pointed toward a cheap keyboard on the floor.
“Piano.”
I stared.
“Insult.”
“It was forty dollars,” Elena said.
“Still insult.”
Mia pushed me toward it.
“Play.”
“I don’t play.”
Elena crossed her arms.
“Mia says otherwise.”
I looked at her.
“What did she tell you?”
“That you were practicing after we left.”
Traitorous staff.
I sat.
Mia climbed beside me.
I played Francesca’s song.
Poorly.
When I finished, the room was quiet.
Elena’s face had changed.
“You can play.”
“Barely.”
“Why did you stop?”
I looked at the keys.
“My sister.”
Elena knew.
She sat beside me.
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I think I do.”
So I did.
The bomb.
The funeral.
My father removing the piano bench because my mother kept finding Francesca’s sheet music there.
How music became grief.
Mia listened for exactly eleven seconds.
Then pressed three keys.
“Better.”
I laughed.
Elena did too.
That night, after Mia slept, Elena and I stood on the tiny balcony.
“I like it here,” I said.
“You hate it.”
“The neighbor’s dog has barked for forty minutes.”
“He’s expressing himself.”
“He should stop.”
She smiled.
Then became serious.
“You really let us leave.”
“I noticed.”
“I thought you’d fight.”
“I wanted to.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I looked through the window at Mia asleep on the couch.
“Because keeping people is not the same as making them stay.”
Elena stared.
Then she stepped closer.
She kissed me.
One kiss.
Soft.
Unexpected.
I did not touch her until she touched my face again.
Then I kissed her back.
When we separated, I said nothing.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Do not negotiate.”
I closed my mouth.
“Good.”
I smiled.
For the first time, Elena had left me—
May you like
and somehow it did not feel like losing her.
It felt like she was finally free enough to choose whether she came back.
