Chapter 2 - The Ghost from the Past
"Elena."
The name slipped past my lips before I could form a defense, a low whisper that barely carried over the hum of the hand dryers.
Elena Vance. Or rather, Elena Moretti, though she had never worn the ring.
When I turned slowly from the sink, the sight of her nearly knocked me off my feet. Time had only sharpened her striking features. Her dark hair, usually wild and untamed when we were younger, was pulled back into an elegant, practical knot, though a few stray strands framed her face. Her eyes—those piercing, expressive hazel eyes that used to see straight through my mafia bravado—were wide with a mixture of shock, panic, and an unmistakable flash of old fury.
She stood frozen just inside the doorway, her hands clutching a leather handbag like a shield. Behind her, the four boys scrambled toward her legs, chattering excitedly.
"Mom, look! This man looks just like us! Well, like us put together, or like... wait, he looks like our big brother if our big brother was old!" the second boy blurted out, pointing an accusing finger right at my chest.
Elena swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling beneath a simple emerald blouse. She didn't look at the boys; her gaze was locked entirely on me, as if she were staring down a ghost she had spent years trying to exorcise.
"Dominic," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly before she hardened her expression, stepping defensively in front of the quadruplets. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my throat. I took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us until the scent of her familiar vanilla and rain perfume hit my senses, dragging me violently back to a summer I thought I had locked away forever. "Elena, you're in a Back Bay restaurant with four mini-mes running around, and you're asking me what I'm doing here? Whose kids are these?"
"They're mine," she snapped instantly, her chin lifting with that fierce, unyielding pride that had first driven me crazy—and made me fall hopelessly in love with her. "And they have nothing to do with you, Dominic. We were just leaving."
"Leaving?" I scoffed, my mafia instincts flaring up, overriding the sheer emotional chaos of the moment. "You expect me to believe that four kids who look like they were carved out of my own ribs just happened to pop up in Boston, and I have nothing to do with them? Look at them, Elena! They have my face, my voice, and God help me, they probably have my temper!"
The boys watched our standoff with wide eyes, completely silent now, sensing the thick, electric tension in the air.
"You made your choice six years ago, Dominic," Elena whispered fiercely, her eyes flashing with unshed tears. "You chose the family name, the empire, the pedigree, and the throne. You told me that a girl from the South End didn't fit into the Moretti blueprint. So I left. I built a life for my sons far away from your bullets, your enemies, and your gilded cage. You don't get to waltz back in now just because of a genetic coincidence."
"A coincidence?" I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous, low rumble. "There is no coincidence here, Elena. You're hiding four sons from me. My sons."
"They are my sons!" she shot back, stepping forward to block my path to the boys. "You gave up any right to them the night you walked away without fighting for us. Now move out of my way, Dominic. I have a reservation to get to."
"Cancel it," I commanded, the absolute authority of the Moretti patriarch slipping out of my voice before I could stop it.
Elena crossed her arms, glaring up at me with absolute defiance. "Or what? You'll have me whacked? Go ahead, Dominic. Prove to these boys right now exactly what kind of monster their father is."
The word hung in the tiled room like a guillotine blade.
Father.
May you like
She had said it. She had finally admitted the truth aloud. They were mine. All four of them.
My hand strayed back to my jacket pocket, brushing against the velvet box containing Sloane's engagement ring. The contrast was staggering. Twenty minutes from now, I was supposed to bind myself to a woman I didn't love for the sake of power. But right here, standing in a restaurant men's room, was the only family I had ever truly wanted—and I was about to lose them all over again.
