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“I told you piccola, we didn’t have to go.”
Just when I thought I’d survived the worst shit these past weeks, my body decides to torture me in a whole new way. Morning sickness. Only whoever named it that clearly neverhad it, because mine hits all day—like clockwork. Nothing says congratulations on your pregnancy quite like hugging a toilet bowl.
The flight back to New York a week ago was a breeze, to say the least. Mostly because Dominic and I found plenty of ways to keep ourselves distracted. This pregnancy is making me a horny mess, and lucky for me, he’s more than happy to handle it.
When we landed, we drove to his Tarrytown mansion to rest up. Honestly, the change of scenery is a godsend. Especially after sweating it out in the Vegas heat, I’m beyond relieved to trade that desert for some fresh air and trees.
Ourhome.
With its sprawling yard and airtight security, I know this is the safest place to raise afamily. And for the first time in a long time, that idea doesn’t terrify me.
I hover over the toilet, heaving up what’s left of my lunch—pickles wrapped in turkey slices, a combo that seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. And let’s not forget the ridiculous amount of ice cream I devoured for dessert.
The violent retching leaves my throat raw, my eyes stinging. Tears smear my face, but I’m too miserable to care.
“We can get you home, baby,” he says as he gathers my hair and holds it back into a makeshift ponytail, rubbing my back.
I pray I don’t vomit on the satin dress I’m wearing tonight.
“We can’t,” I complain as I flush the remnants in the toilet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “It’s your night. You’ve been waiting for this.”
Dominic chuckles as he walks away, grabs my purse from the counter, and fishes out the breath mints I packed earlier.
“And I got it,amore.” He squats down in front of me on the marble floor. The bathroom smells like fresh orchids, and I can see my reflection in every gleaming surface.
“And it’s all thanks to you.”
“Remind me again how thankful you are for tonight,” I smirk, then immediately groan as my stomach flips again.
“should I make a note?”
Three weeks since I put that bullet in my father’s head. Three weeks since I used Mom’s gun to end the man who killed her. There’s something poetic about that, if you ask me. I spent so much time torn about Marco, trying to see the father beneath the cop, the parent… beneath the traitor. And what did I discover—A greedy, backstabbing coward who murdered my mother and would sell out his entire family without blinking.
Some people just aren’t worth saving. I’ve got my own family to think about now. No way I could sleep at night knowing their grandfather might show up someday with another scheme, putting my kids in danger. Sometimes a bullet between the eyes is the only solution that sticks.
And maybe I am a hypocrite for starting a family with the very man I used to run away from. But I’ve learned there’s a difference between the monsters in the stories and the man I wake up beside each morning. Just a couple months ago, I saw only the blood on his hands. Now I see the lengths he’ll go to protect what’s his. I used to fear this world—the power, the violence, the unspoken rules. Now I’m writing my own rules within it. How does that saying go? If you can’t beat them, join them. But it’s more than that. It’s finding strength in places I never thought to look.
It’s realizing the safety I’ve always chased wasn’t about running away—it was about finally having something worth fighting for. My entire life, I’ve been searching for somewhere to belong, somewhere beyond my father’s shadow, beyond the fear that’s followed me since my mother’s death. I built a career exposing other people’s secrets while burying my own. Bylines in major publications, investigative pieces that made careers and broke corrupt politicians—all while making sure no one knew the girl behind the Alessandra Russo name had La Falciante’s blood running through her veins.And I know my mother would have found some twisted kind of satisfaction in this moment. She had always seen something in Dominic, had always known he’d rise to the top.
Yet somehow I convinced myself that safety meant anonymity, distance, a life lived in carefully constructed headlines where I controlled the narrative. I thought being a respected journalist meant I’d finally escaped the family business, that the further I climbed up, the safer I’d be—created a life so separate from my roots that sometimes I almost believed the lie myself.
But true safety? It isn’t found in hiding. It’s in standing your ground. It’s in the network of people who would kill or die for you. It’s in knowing exactly who your enemies are instead of jumping at shadows. It’s in a man who looks at me like I’m the center of his universe, who knows every broken, damaged piece of me and loves me not despite those pieces, but because of them.
Sometimes you have to stop running to discover who you really are—sometimes you have to face the darkness to find your own light. And sometimes… the path you’ve been avoiding your entire life is exactly where you were meant to be all along.
Reversing that RICO case was no trip in the park, and let’s just say The Commission wasn’t so happy when they learned that I killed Marco before we could get any information on how to undo it. And the look on Dominic’s face when Fabio was threatening his position, I knew I had to do something. For Dominic.
The solution was staring us in the face the whole time. Who better to take down a dirty cop than his own daughter?I mean, with my investigative journalist background, working alongside that private detective Dominic hired to dig into my mother’s death—I’m just saying, it’s the perfect combination.
Dominic hates the idea of me getting involved in his business troubles. “This isn’t your mess to clean up piccola.”
But I insist.“I spent years exposing corporate criminals and political scandals—this is literally what I do for a living... well, did.”
“Yes, but I don’t want you getting tangled up in any of this.”
“Listen, Dom, all I need are the documents proving what a corrupt piece of crap Marco really was, and I know exactly how to craft the narrative that will stick.”
That following morning, Dominic woke me up with kisses and an entire manila folder of what could potentially ruin him even in his death.