Chapter 16 - Newark in the Rain
Dominic went to Newark with Enzo, two guards, and no expectation of peace.
Rain fell hard against the windshield. The address tied to Elena Marquez was a brick apartment building with broken intercom buttons and a lobby that smelled of bleach, damp coats, and old mail.
Dominic left the guards outside.
Enzo objected.
Dominic ignored him.
On the fourth floor, a woman opened the door with a chain still latched.
She was older than the photograph Dominic remembered, but her eyes were the same.
Elena Marquez.
She stared at him.
Then she tried to close the door.
Dominic placed one hand against it.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
“That is what men say before they explain why they had to.”
His throat tightened.
“I’m looking for Matteo.”
Her face changed.
Pain. Anger. Fear.
“You don’t get to say his name.”
Enzo shifted behind Dominic.
Dominic raised a hand slightly.
“Is he alive?”
Elena laughed once, hollow.
“You really don’t know.”
“No.”
For a long moment, rain beat against the hallway window.
Then a child’s voice called from inside.
“Mama?”
Dominic went still.
Elena closed her eyes.
A boy appeared behind her.
Nine, maybe ten. Dark hair. Serious eyes. Scar near the eyebrow.
The photograph made flesh.
Dominic could not speak.
The boy looked at him without fear, only suspicion.
“Who are you?”
Dominic swallowed.
“My name is Dominic.”
The boy’s eyes flicked to Elena.
“The uncle?”
Elena’s face tightened.
Dominic felt something inside him break quietly.
The uncle.
Not a stranger.
Not a ghost.
A known absence.
Elena unlatched the chain with shaking hands.
Inside, the apartment was small but clean. Bookshelves lined one wall. A school backpack hung on a chair. On the fridge was a drawing of three people-a woman, a boy, and a man with wings.
Matteo.
Dominic stared at it.
Elena crossed her arms.
“His name is Luca.”
The boy lifted his chin.
“Luca Marquez.”
“Castellano,” Elena said softly, then looked furious with herself for saying it.
Dominic sat because standing suddenly felt impossible.
“What happened to my brother?”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“He tried to leave. He made a deal with your father’s enemies, not to betray the family, but to disappear. Rinaldi found out. He sold the information. Matteo got me out first.”
“And him?”
Elena looked toward the drawing.
“He came back for documents proving your father had ordered things even you didn’t know about. He said if he could give them to you, maybe you would let the old life die with your father.”
Dominic’s voice was rough.
“He never came.”
“No.”
Luca watched him closely.
“My dad was brave.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Yes.”
“You were bad?”
The question hit clean.
Elena inhaled sharply.
Dominic answered before she could stop him.
“Sometimes.”
Luca studied him.
“Are you still?”
Dominic thought of Mia’s red hands, Sofia’s fever, Priya’s folder, Clara’s tears, Rinaldi’s smile.
“I’m trying not to be.”
Luca seemed to accept the difficulty of that.
Elena wiped her face.
“Rinaldi found us last year. He said if I didn’t help move documents, he’d tell you Luca existed.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You thought I would hurt him?”
“I thought you were your father’s son.”
He closed his eyes.
So had he, for too long.
When they left, Elena had not forgiven him. Luca had not hugged him. No music swelled. No family healed in an hour.
But Elena gave Dominic Matteo’s last letter.
In the car, Dominic opened it with hands that did not shake until the first line.
Dom,
If you are reading this, I failed to come home. Don’t become him just because he taught you how.
May you like
Dominic turned his face toward the rain-dark window.
For the second time that week, he cried.
