Chapter 2 - Dust and Lavender
The silence inside the nursery felt different now. For three years, it had been a heavy, suffocating weight—a vacuum where a life was supposed to have been born. But with the soft breathing of the little girl sitting on the dusty floor, the heavy air seemed to shift.
Mia took the one-eared rabbit from Dominic's stiff fingers. She settled it into her lap, smoothing down its faded plush fur with a small hand.
“His name is Barnaby,” she informed him in a quiet voice, mindful of the night surrounding them. “He likes milk, but he doesn't like broccoli. Do you like broccoli?”
Dominic stared at her, still entirely paralyzed by the surreal nature of the moment. “No,” he managed to say. His voice sounded like gravel being turned over in a bucket. “I don't like broccoli.”
Mia nodded approvingly. “I knew it. You have a broccoli face.”
A strange, rusty sound almost bubbled up from Dominic’s throat—a laugh that died before it could fully form. He looked down at his own hand. The skin where her fingers had touched him felt unnaturally warm, as if her small hand had left a heat stain on his knuckles.
“Mia,” a panicked, frantic whisper suddenly echoed from the hallway outside.
Footsteps hurried across the hardwood floor—frantic, light, terrified steps. A woman appeared in the doorway, her face pale, her hair pulled back in a loose, messy bun. It was Teresa, the young widow he had hired four months ago to handle the daily housekeeping. She worked during the afternoon hours when Dominic usually locked himself in his third-floor office, so he had rarely seen her for more than a brief nod in passing.
Teresa stopped dead in her tracks at the threshold. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw her three-year-old daughter sitting on the carpet of the forbidden wing, inches away from the most feared man in the state.
“Oh God,” Teresa gasped, dropping to her knees at the doorway, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “Mr. Moretti... I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. She... she woke up to go to the bathroom in the staff quarters, and I turned my back for a second to fetch a glass of water—Mia! Get over here right now!”
Teresa’s voice cracked with pure, unadulterated terror. She knew who Dominic Moretti was. Everyone in the city knew. He was a monster who operated in the shadows, a man whose enemies vanished into dark rivers and concrete foundations.
Mia didn't move. She looked at her mother, then turned her head back to Dominic.
“Mr. Boss was lonely, Mama,” Mia said matter-of-factly. “Barnaby gave him a hug.”
Teresa looked as if she were about to faint. She reached forward, her hands trembling as she tried to pull Mia back without stepping over the threshold into the room everyone knew was strictly off-limits. “Mr. Moretti, please... she's just a baby. She didn't mean to trespass. I'll pack our things. We'll leave tonight. Please, just don't hurt her—”
“Stop,” Dominic said.
The single word cut through the air like a blade. Teresa froze, her breath hitching in her chest, tears spilling over her eyelashes. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the wrath of the mafia don.
Dominic didn't stand up. He remained seated on the floor, his long legs folded, his arms resting on his knees. He looked at Teresa's terrified face, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt a profound sense of shame. Is this what he had become? A monster that terrified mothers in his own hallway?
“She didn't do anything wrong,” Dominic said quietly. His tone was not angry. It was exhausted. “She found her toy.”
Teresa opened her eyes slowly, searching his face. She expected cold blue eyes filled with malice, but instead, she saw a man who looked utterly broken—a man sitting amidst dust and white sheets, holding a faded plush rabbit by one ear.
“I... I am so sorry, sir,” Teresa whispered again, her panic slowly receding into profound confusion. “The room... Marta told me never to let anyone come near the east wing.”
“Marta was following my orders,” Dominic said. He looked around the room, taking in the dust-covered floorboards and the dim moonlight filtering through the blinds. “She was protecting a ghost.”
He placed the rabbit gently back into Mia's hands. He stood up slowly, his tall frame towering over the small child, but his movements were careful, deliberate, and soft.
“Take her back to bed, Teresa,” Dominic said quietly. “It's late.”
Teresa gathered Mia into her arms, pulling the child tightly against her chest. Mia rested her chin on her mother’s shoulder, looking back at Dominic over Teresa's back.
“Goodnight, Mr. Boss,” Mia called out gently as her mother backed away. “Don't walk too much. Your knees will hurt.”
May you like
Dominic stood alone in the center of the nursery. The silence returned, but it was no longer absolute. The faint scent of lavender soap and warm milk remained in the dusty room.
He looked at the open door. For three years, he had been afraid to step over that threshold. Now, he was inside. And for the first time in one thousand and ninety-six nights, he didn't feel the urge to walk.
