Chapter 14 - The Door He Should Have Opened Years Ago
Dominic drove to the hospital as though every second were an enemy.
Clara threatened to murder him twice for speeding.
He slowed.
Barely.
Labor progressed quickly.
Too quickly.
Doctors rushed around them.
One twin’s heart rate dropped.
Clara saw fear on Dominic's face.
“Stay with me.”
“I’m here.”
“No matter what.”
“I'm here.”
She squeezed his hand.
Hours blurred.
Pain.
Voices.
Machines.
Then a cry.
Small.
Sharp.
Beautiful.
Their daughter arrived first.
The second baby did not.
Doctors moved faster.
Dominic stood beside Clara, helpless.
“Why isn't he crying?”
Nobody answered.
Clara began sobbing.
Then—
A sound.
Weak.
But there.
Their son cried.
Dominic bowed his head.
Clara had never seen him cry.
Now he could not stop.
Both babies were premature but stable.
Their daughter weighed four pounds, six ounces.
Their son weighed four pounds, two.
They spent three weeks in neonatal care.
Dominic spent almost every hour beside them.
One night Clara woke and found him sitting between the incubators reading an accounting report aloud.
“What are you doing?”
“They recognize voices.”
“You're reading quarterly earnings.”
“I didn't bring a children's book.”
“Those poor babies.”
Dominic smiled.
Weeks later, they brought them home.
Not to the Russo estate.
To the house by the ocean.
Clara saw the Atlantic for the first time carrying her daughter.
She stood barefoot in the sand.
Dominic held their son.
“Well?” he asked.
Clara stared at the endless water.
“You undersold it.”
“I said you'd like it.”
“You said you'd show me.”
“I was right.”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
He reached into his pocket.
This time there was a ring.
Clara stared.
Dominic immediately said, “You can say no.”
She laughed.
“That is a terrible proposal.”
“I haven't proposed.”
“You're holding a ring.”
“I was building toward it.”
“Dominic Russo builds toward nothing.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“I don't want you because you're the mother of my children.”
Clara listened.
“I don't want you because I owe you anything.”
The ocean moved behind them.
“I want you because the worst mistake of my life was believing I could protect myself by pretending you meant nothing.”
Her eyes filled.
“You were terrible at it.”
“I know.”
“You hurt me.”
“I know.”
“I still occasionally want to hit you with a ledger.”
“I've accounted for that.”
She laughed through tears.
Dominic lowered himself onto one knee.
Their son immediately began crying.
Clara laughed harder.
Dominic looked at the baby.
“Your timing is terrible.”
The baby screamed.
Clara took him.
Dominic remained kneeling.
“Clara Higgins, will you marry me?”
She looked at the man who had once refused to admit she belonged anywhere near his life.
Now he was not ordering.
Not protecting.
Not deciding.
Asking.
“Yes.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Relief crossed his face.
Then Clara added, “But I keep my name.”
“Obviously.”
“And no three-hundred-person wedding.”
“Fifty?”
“Twenty.”
“Forty.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Thirty.”
“Deal.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
Their daughter began crying too.
Dominic stood.
“I think they're objecting.”
“They're Russos.”
“Higgins-Russos.”
He smiled.
“Higgins-Russos.”
That evening, Isabella arrived with Liam, Victoria, Elaine, and Bradley.
It was the strangest family dinner Clara had ever imagined.
Victoria held one baby.
Isabella held the other.
Liam burned dinner.
Dominic insisted he had warned him.
For several hours, nobody talked about murder, ledgers, bloodlines, or betrayal.
They simply existed.
Then Isabella quietly handed Clara an envelope.
“I found this in your mother's letters.”
Clara opened it.
Inside was one final note.
Not addressed to Clara.
Addressed to Dominic.
He unfolded it.
Dominic Russo—
If my daughter ever becomes important to you, remember this: she has spent enough of her life being grateful for being allowed to stay.
Never ask her to earn her place.
Dominic stopped reading.
Clara's eyes filled.
At the bottom, Margaret had written one final sentence.
Give her a home she can choose.
Dominic looked at Clara.
She reached for his hand.
For the first time, the past did not feel like a chain.
But the following morning, someone knocked on their front door.
Dominic opened it.
A federal investigator stood outside holding one final sealed Russo file.
Across the front was Clara’s name.
May you like
And beneath it were the words:
TO BE OPENED ONLY AFTER SALVATORE RUSSO’S CRIMES BECOME PUBLIC.
