Chapter 4 - The Reunion at Westchester
The iron gates of the Westchester estate opened slowly in the dark, rainy night, creaking on their hinges like a sleeping monster awakening.
Elena pulled her old station wagon up the long, winding cobblestone driveway. The estate looked identical to the night she had walked away seven years ago—grand, imposing, built of cold gray stone and glass, surrounded by manicured lawns and high security walls.
She parked near the grand fountain. She turned off the engine, looking back at the rear seat. Mateo was awake, staring out the window at the massive mansion with wide, curious eyes. Clara was still drowsy, clutching her small teddy bear.
"Mommy... who lives in this big castle?" Mateo asked softly.
Elena looked at her son, her heart aching. "Someone who used to be very important to Mommy. Remember what I told you, Mateo. Stay close to me, and let Mommy talk."
The heavy double doors of the mansion swung open.
A tall figure stepped out into the pouring rain, ignoring the weather completely.
Dominic Moretti walked down the stone steps.
Seven years had aged him. Silver streaks now lined the temples of his dark hair. Deep lines of grief and stress were carved around his sharp jawline and piercing eyes. He wore a simple black suit, unbuttoned at the collar, looking thinner and far more hollowed out than the proud Mafia Don who had ruled New York.
Behind him, standing under the awning, Gabriel Knox stood guard, holding an umbrella, his hand resting near his concealed shoulder holster.
Dominic stopped ten feet from the car, his eyes fixed on Elena as she stepped out into the rain.
He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He stared at her as if looking at an apparition, a miracle he didn't deserve to witness.
"Elena..." he breathed, the rain soaking his hair and face, mixing with the tears spilling from his eyes. "You came back."
"I came for protection for my children, Dominic," Elena said firmly, staying near her driver's side door, refusing to step closer to him. "Nothing else."
Dominic took a step forward, but Elena held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
"Don't," she commanded coldly.
Dominic instantly stopped, nodding desperately, bowing his head in total submission. "Okay. Okay. Anything you say. Just... let me see them. Please."
Elena turned and opened the rear door of the wagon. She helped Clara step out first, then guided Mateo by the shoulder. The two children stood under their mother's coat, shielding themselves from the rain, looking up at the towering, wet man standing in front of them.
Dominic gasped, dropping heavily to his knees right there in the muddy gravel driveway.
He stared at the children. Mateo looked so shockingly like him at that age—the exact line of his brow, the same intense dark eyes, the square chin. And Clara possessed Elena’s soft beauty mixed with the proud posture of the Moretti bloodline.
"My God..." Dominic sobbed softly, pressing a hand over his mouth, his shoulders heaving. "Twins... I have twins."
Mateo stepped slightly in front of his mother and sister, his small fists clenched, looking at Dominic with a protective glare. "Are you the man who made my mommy cry?"
The boy's words struck Dominic like a bullet straight through his chest. He looked up at his six-year-old son, seeing his own fiery spirit reflected in the boy's defensive stance.
"Yes, son," Dominic choked out, tears raining down his face onto the mud. "I am the foolish man who broke your mother's heart. And I have spent every single day of the last seven years hating myself for it."
Gabriel walked down the steps slowly, holding an umbrella over the children and Elena. "Dominic, we need to bring them inside. Rossi's scouts could be tracking the roads."
Dominic stood up quickly, wiping his face, stepping back to give Elena space. "Yes. Inside. Everything in the house has been kept exactly as you left it, Elena. Nobody has touched your rooms."
They walked into the warm, towering grand foyer.
Elena looked around the polished marble floors. Images of that terrible night returned to her mind—the sound of her sister’s laughter, the discarded suit jacket, the smile through the three-inch gap in the bedroom door.
Dominic watched her expression, seeing the painful memories passing through her eyes like a ghost.
"Vanessa is gone, Elena," Dominic said quietly, his voice filled with intense hatred for the memory. "The morning after you left, I threw her out. She tried to come back once, two weeks later. I had her blacklisted from every social circle, ruined her business investments, and banished her from New York forever. She lives in shame in Europe, broke and isolated. I never touched her again. I never looked at another woman again."
"You shouldn't have touched her in the first place, Dominic," Elena said, her voice devoid of emotion as she led the children to the plush sofa in the living room. "Your revenge against her doesn't undo what you did."
"I know," Dominic bowed his head low. "I don't ask for forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it."
Elena sat the children down, giving them warm towels handed to her by Gabriel. Then, she pulled out the vintage green velvet box from her purse and set it on the marble glass table between them.
She opened the box, revealing the antique emerald signet ring and the micro-flash drive.
"Rossi isn't just trying to kill us to hurt you, Dominic," Elena revealed, looking him dead in the eye. "He knows what's inside this ring."
Dominic frowned, looking down at the emerald. "Your grandmother's ring? What does it have to do with Rossi?"
"It contains the original legal trust created by my grandfather," Elena explained, her voice steady and clear. "It proves that fifty-one percent of the Moretti parent holdings do not belong to you, nor do they belong to the syndicate board. They belong legally to my children. Rossi wants to execute my twins, destroy these documents, and claim the syndicate's assets through default corporate liquidation."
Dominic’s face turned from grief to sheer horror, and then into an apocalyptic, terrifying rage.
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He looked at the flash drive, then at his two small children drinking hot chocolate on the sofa, completely innocent of the war surrounding them.
"They targeted my family..." Dominic whispered, his voice turning into a dark, demonic growl that made the glass chandeliers in the foyer vibrate. "Rossi dares to hunt my blood."
