Chapter 5 - Confessions in the Rain
The penthouse atop the Moretti Tower on Beacon Hill was an impenetrable fortress. Steel-reinforced doors, biometric locks, bulletproof glass overlooking the city skyline. It was cold, sterile, and silent.
Until tonight.
"Look at this television, Noah! It’s as big as our whole bedroom!" Mateo’s squeaky voice echoed off the modern concrete walls.
"Don't touch anything, Mateo," Elena warned, her voice strained as she trailed after the four boys, trying to keep them contained in the expansive living area. "Keep your coats on. We aren't staying."
I walked into the living room holding a tray with five mugs of hot cocoa—marshmallows floating on top—and a cup of black coffee for Elena.
The four boys instantly halted their exploration of the room, their eyes locking onto the mugs.
"Marshmallows?" Noah whispered, looking up at his mother with wide, pleading eyes. "Mama, please? We didn't have dinner."
Elena looked at me, her jaw clenched tight. She was exhausted. Her hair was falling out of its pins, and her hands were trembling from the adrenaline of the last two hours. But beneath her stubborn pride, she was a mother first.
"Take a cup, boys," she conceded softly. "Sit on the rug. Don't spill."
The quadruplets cheered quietly, descending upon the coffee table like a coordinated pack of wolf cubs. They sat cross-legged on the plush white rug, blowing on their cocoa with identical, synchronized pouts.
I handed the black coffee to Elena. "Two sugars. No milk. Just like you used to drink when you pulled all-nighters at the greenhouse."
Elena looked at the mug, then looked at me. Her expression softened, just an inch, before hardening again. She didn't take the cup.
"Dominic, what are we doing here?" she asked, keeping her voice low so the boys wouldn't hear. "You can't keep us locked in a glass cage. I have a job at the botanical gardens. The boys have first grade on Monday. We have a life."
"A life where you ride the red line late at night and live in a ground-floor apartment in East Boston with a broken front lock?" I countered, setting the mug down on the counter. "I had Marco run a background check the moment we got in the car, Elena. You're working sixty hours a week. You're barely paying rent. Why didn't you cash the check Salvatore gave you?"
Elena’s eyes flashed with pure venom. "Because that money was soaked in blood! You think I would raise your sons on blood money? Salvatore told me if I took that money, it was my price to never speak your name again. I took the cash out of the building, threw it into a charity donation bin in Chinatown, and bought five bus tickets with my own savings."
She took a ragged breath, blinking back hot tears. "I worked three jobs while my stomach grew so big I couldn't tie my own shoes. When the doctor told me it was quadruplets, I sat in an alley behind a grocery store and wept for four hours because I didn't know how I was going to afford four pairs of shoes, let alone keep them safe from you."
Every word hit me like a hollow-point bullet.
The guilt was suffocating. While I was living in luxury, brooding in leather armchairs and plotting corporate acquisitions, the woman I loved was starving herself to buy infant formula for four boys who carried my blood.
"Elena," I said, my voice thick with emotion. I stepped into her space. This time, she didn't back away. "Look at me."
I reached out and gently took her hands. Her skin was rough, calloused from hard labor, so different from the soft hands of the women who frequented my world. I brought her hands to my lips, kissing the scarred knuckles.
"I swear to you on my mother's grave," I whispered, holding her gaze. "I never knew. If I had known, I would have burned this city to the ground six years ago to find you. I never stopped loving you, Elena. Not for a single day."
A tear slipped from her eye, tracing a path down her cheek. "Dominic... it’s too late. Look at what you are. Look at this world. You almost got into a shootout outside a restaurant tonight."
"And I will end it," I said fiercely. "I broke the Barrett alliance tonight. Tomorrow, I deal with Salvatore. I will clean house. I will make this city safe for our sons."
Suddenly, a small tug pulled at the hem of my trousers.
I looked down.
Noah, the quietest of the four, was looking up at me. His slate-gray eyes were solemn. He held up a half-eaten graham cracker.
"Are you our dad?" he asked, the innocence in his small voice shattering the tension in the room.
Elena held her breath.
I sank to my knees, leveling my gaze with my son. I looked at his three brothers, who had stopped drinking their cocoa and were watching us with bated breath.
"Yes, Noah," I said, a lump rising in my throat that I couldn't swallow down. "I am. And I’m sorry I was late."
Noah stared at me for a long moment, then broke into a small, gap-toothed smile. "It’s okay. Mateo is always late too."
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He held out the cracker. "You want half?"
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