Chapter 11 - The First Bedtime StoryThat night, Nico asked Dominic to read.
No one expected it.
Rafa had fallen asleep sideways across the bed, one hand in Elena’s hair. Nico sat upright under the blanket, Mr. Buttons tucked against his ribs, watching Dominic from across the room.
Elena was gathering pajamas from a chair when Nico spoke.
“You can read the truck book.”
Dominic froze.
Elena turned slowly.
“You want him to read?”
Nico shrugged.
“He has a serious voice.”
Rafa stirred and mumbled, “Truck voice.”
Dominic looked at Elena.
She hesitated.
Then she handed him the book.
It was called Big Red Truck Goes Home.
Dominic took it as if it were a legal document capable of destroying him.
The room was quiet except for the hum of the heater.
He opened to the first page.
The sentence was simple.
He still had to clear his throat.
“Big Red Truck woke before the sun.”
Rafa opened one eye.
“Louder.”
Dominic adjusted.
“Big Red Truck woke before the sun.”
Nico nodded approval.
Elena sat on the edge of the second bed, arms folded loosely around herself.
Dominic read about mud, hills, lost roads, a broken bridge, and a truck who believed going home meant never needing help. Halfway through, he realized Elena was watching him instead of the children.
The story ended with Big Red Truck accepting help from Little Blue Car and finding that home was not a garage, but the people waiting inside it.
Dominic closed the book.
Rafa was asleep.
Nico was almost there.
The boy whispered, “Big Red was wrong.”
Dominic looked at him.
“How?”
“He thought help made him not strong.”
Dominic’s throat closed.
“Yes,” he said. “He was very wrong.”
Nico nodded once and fell asleep.
Elena stood carefully and kissed both boys. Dominic backed his chair into the hallway to give her space.
When she came out, she closed the door softly.
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then Elena said, “He likes you.”
Dominic looked at the floor.
“He does not know better yet.”
“That is not fair to him.”
“No,” Dominic admitted. “It is not.”
They moved to the small lounge at the end of the hall. The center was quiet now, guarded shadows behind glass.
Elena sat on the sofa.
Dominic remained near the window.
“You can sit closer,” she said.
He turned.
“The chair does not make you dangerous by proximity.”
A faint breath left him.
He moved closer.
Not too close.
Elena tucked her feet beneath her.
“I need to ask something.”
“Anything.”
“That day in the hospital. Did you mean any of it?”
“No.”
The speed of his answer startled her.
Dominic’s jaw worked.
“I meant none of it. I chose every word because I knew exactly where it would cut.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were scared?”
“Because I had spent my life being taught fear was something men converted into cruelty before anyone could see it.”
She looked down.
“That sounds like an explanation.”
“It is not an excuse.”
“No,” she whispered. “It isn’t.”
“I thought if you hated me, you would leave and live.”
“I did leave,” she said. “But I did not live for a long time. I survived. There is a difference.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked at her then.
“Yes.”
The honesty in his face made her look away.
For three years, Elena had hated the memory of him to keep loving him from killing her. She had built a version of Dominic that was easier to resist. Cold. Selfish. Proud. Untouchable.
But the man across from her looked touched by everything.
Broken by it.
Trying to hold the pieces without cutting anyone else.
That was more dangerous.
“I am not coming back to you,” she said abruptly.
Dominic’s face did not change, but something in his eyes dimmed.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“The boys are not a bridge.”
“No.”
“And I will not raise them inside your organization.”
“You will not have to.”
She searched his face.
“You really think you can leave it?”
“No.”
Her stomach dropped.
Dominic continued, “I think leaving sounds too gentle. I have to dismantle it. Piece by piece. Publicly enough that it cannot rebuild around the boys.”
“That will make enemies.”
“I already have enemies.”
“It will make desperate ones.”
“Yes.”
She stood, restless.
“I hate this.”
“So do I.”
“No, Dominic. I hate that part of me believes you.”
He did not know what to say to that.
Before he could try, Marcus appeared at the doorway.
“Sorry.”
Dominic turned.
“What?”
“Claire Donnelly surfaced.”
Elena’s heart jumped.
“Where?”
Marcus looked at both of them.
“She walked into a police station in Green Bay twenty minutes ago. Asked for Detective Walsh by name.”
Dominic’s eyes sharpened.
“And?”
Marcus’s voice lowered.
“She says she has proof of who paid her to photograph Elena and the twins.”
Elena stepped forward.
“Who?”
Marcus exhaled.
“Your father.”
Dominic went utterly still.
“My father has been dead for five years.”
May you like
Marcus nodded.
“That’s what makes this a problem.”
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