Chapter 7 - The Fear of Staying
The aftermath of the Plaza Hotel disaster hit New York like a megaton bomb.
By the next morning, Victor Ross and Vanessa Sloan were held without bail at the Metropolitan Correctional Center, facing thirty years in federal prison. Marcus Vance, realizing his entire network had been exposed, attempted to flee the country via private jet, only to be intercepted at Teterboro Airport by Dominic’s enforcement detail and handed over to federal authorities.
The $48 million was fully recovered and returned to the Vale accounts.
For three days, the Brooklyn brownstone was peaceful.
Noah spent his afternoons playing in the private walled garden with Mrs. Higgins, learning how to plant tulips, while I spent my mornings helping Dominic reorganize Northstar’s legitimate corporate structure from his home study.
It was heaven.
And that was precisely why I knew I had to leave.
On Friday morning, while Dominic was downstairs in a meeting with his legal team, I packed our small duffel bag. I folded the cashmere sweaters he had bought me, put on my original jeans, and packed Noah’s clothes.
I was a forensic accountant from Queens. Dominic Vale was the king of the New York underworld. The threat to my life was gone. The money was safe. I had no excuse left to stay in a million-dollar citadel taking up space in his life.
“Where are we going, Mommy?” Noah asked, sitting on the edge of the bed with his plush T-Rex tucked under his arm.
“We’re going home, baby,” I whispered, trying desperately to keep the quiver out of my voice. “We’re going to find a nice new apartment.”
“I like Big Dominic’s house,” Noah said quietly, looking down at his light-up shoes. “He let me eat two cookies before lunch.”
“I know, honey. But this isn't our home.”
I took Noah’s hand, lifted our light duffel bag over my shoulder, and walked down the grand staircase.
Rain was tapping against the stained-glass windows of the foyer—the exact same sound as the night I had walked into the Hudson Room six days ago.
I reached the front door and pulled it open.
A heavy, warm hand clamped gently over the edge of the oak door, slamming it shut.
I froze.
I turned around slowly to find Dominic standing behind me.
He wasn't wearing his suit jacket. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, his sleeves rolled up, his dark hair slightly rumpled. And for the first time since I had met him, Dominic Vale looked genuinely, deeply rattled.
“Where do you think you’re going, Abigail?” he asked, his deep voice dangerously rough.
“The danger is over, Dominic,” I said, clutching Noah’s hand tightly, staring at the middle button of his shirt because I couldn't bear to look into his eyes. “You got your money back. Victor and Vanessa are in jail. Noah and I... we need to get back to our life.”
“Your life?” Dominic repeated. He took a step closer, towering over me, his presence overwhelming the entire foyer. “Back to a damp apartment in Queens? Back to three jobs to pay medical bills? Back to being invisible?”
“It’s my life!” I cried out, tears finally spilling over my lashes. “I don't belong in your world, Dominic! I’m a curvy, tired single mother with a kid! I’m not a mob boss’s girlfriend! I’m not built for diamond chokers and armored cars! You saved us, and I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life, but I can’t stay here pretending this is real!”
Dominic stared at me. His chest heaved with heavy, ragged breaths.
Then, the most feared man in New York did something that made my heart stop entirely.
May you like
He dropped to his knees.
Right there on the Persian rug in his grand foyer, Dominic Vale sank onto both knees before me, placing himself at eye level with my four-year-old son.
