Chapter 6 - Bloodline Extinguished
The morning after Salvatore’s death, the sun broke through the clouds over Manhattan for the first time in ten days, casting bright gold light over the brick brownstones of the Upper East Side.
Meline stood in the private garden at the back of the 73rd Street estate, wearing a soft white cashmere sweater and black trousers. Her right arm was out of its brace, though she still moved her shoulder cautiously.
She held a cup of black coffee, watching the sunlight glint off the damp leaves of the ivy covering the garden walls.
The glass door behind her opened.
Dominic walked out onto the stone patio.
He wasn't wearing his usual armor of three-piece charcoal suits. He wore simple black trousers and a dark grey wool sweater, his dark hair unstyled, dark circles beneath his eyes testifying to two weeks of endless turmoil.
He stopped ten feet away, respecting her space, making no sudden moves.
"Salvatore is dead," Dominic said quietly. "The estate ledgers have been fully audited. Every capo who took his money has been stripped of their ranks and replaced by loyal men."
Meline didn't turn around immediately. She took a slow sip of her coffee, letting the silence settle between them.
"And Marcone?" she asked.
"Banished," Dominic replied. "He surrendered his seats on the board and left for Miami this morning. The Five Families have formally recognized you as the co-head of the Vitiello syndicate."
Meline turned around slowly, looking at him. "Co-head?"
"Yes," Dominic said, stepping two paces closer, his gaze locked onto hers with absolute, unwavering intensity. "I went to our family lawyers yesterday afternoon. I transferred fifty percent of all Vitiello holding companies, real estate assets, and legal corporations directly into your name. Permanently."
Meline blinked, her eyebrows knitting together. "Dominic... what did you do?"
"I gave you your independence, Meline," Dominic whispered, his voice thick with raw vulnerability. "You said I treated loyalty like a transaction. You said you were trapped in a marriage where I held all the power."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather case, setting it gently on the stone garden table between them.
Inside was a spare key to the Tribeca penthouse, a new passport, and legal ownership deeds to three private properties in Europe and California.
"If you want to leave me, Meline," Dominic said, his dark eyes brimming with unshed tears, "you can leave right now. You have the money, you have the assets, you have the protection of the Five Families in your own right. No one can ever force you to stay in my house again."
Meline stared at the table, then looked up into Dominic’s face.
She saw a man completely stripped of his arrogance. She saw the Cold King of Manhattan standing before her, totally exposed, offering her the weapon to destroy him or leave him forever.
"You gave me everything so I could walk away?" Meline asked softly.
"I gave you everything because it was already yours," Dominic rasped, stepping right up to her, his breath catching in his throat. "You saved my life when I didn't deserve it. You protected my name when I dragged yours through the mud. If the only way I can prove I love you is by giving you the power to break my heart... then take it."
Meline set her coffee cup down on the table.
She stepped toward him.
For three agonizing weeks, she had kept her heart locked behind a wall of ice to protect herself from the crushing pain of his betrayal. But looking at him now—seeing the genuine, profound transformation in his eyes, feeling the absolute sincerity of his remorse—the ice began to melt.
She reached out with her uninjured hand, gently touching his jaw.
Dominic leaned his head into her palm like a starving man offered a feast, a ragged shudder escaping his chest as his eyes closed tightly.
"You are an idiot, Dominic Vitiello," Meline whispered, tears finally pooling in her dark eyes.
Dominic opened his eyes, looking down at her with desperate hope. "I know."
"You threw me out in a freezing storm," she reminded him, her voice cracking slightly.
"I will regret it until the day I die," he swore, taking her hand gently, pressing his lips against her inner wrist where her pulse hammered wildly.
"And you made me stand in silk heels on Greenwich Street," she added, a tiny, watery smile breaking through her tears.
"I will buy you every shoe in Europe," Dominic promised, a breathless, joyous laugh rising in his throat.
Meline looked up into his face, reaching up on her tiptoes, wrapping her left arm around his neck, pulling him down to her level.
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"Show me," Meline murmured against his lips. "Show me you're not the Cold King anymore."
Dominic didn't wait. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest—careful of her healing shoulder—and brought his mouth down onto hers in a deep, desperate, consuming kiss that tasted of rain, tears, and absolute, unshakeable devotion.
