Chapter 8 - The Ultimatum
The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the penthouse, turning the Manhattan skyline into a blurred watercolor of gray and neon.
Dominic stood by the window, a tumbler of whiskey untouched in his hand, his broad shoulders rigid as stone.
Naomi sat on the edge of the guest room bed, her packed duffel bag sitting zipped on the floor beside her. Lily was asleep in the adjoining room, exhausted from crying after the shouting match an hour earlier.
The heavy oak door of the guest room clicked open. Dominic stepped inside, his shadow stretching across the hardwood floor.
“You’re not leaving,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet.
Naomi stood up, facing him with an icy fury that matched his own. She looked him dead in the eye, unafraid for the first time in five years.
“I am walking out of this door, Dominic. With or without your permission,” Naomi said, her voice steady and lethal. “You think you own us because you have money, because you can buy buildings and threaten gangsters. But you don't own me. And you will not turn my daughter into a pawn in your bloody chess game.”
Dominic crossed the room in two strides, his large hands gripping her shoulders. He didn't hurt her, but his grip was ironclad.
“If you walk out that door tonight, Naomi, you are walking into a crossfire,” Dominic growled, his face inches from hers, his eyes burning with desperate intensity. “Salvatore has gone rogue. He knows about Lily. He thinks using her is the only way to break me. If you leave this building without my protection, you won't survive forty-eight hours.”
Naomi stared at him, her heart breaking into a million jagged pieces. She saw the raw, terrifying truth behind his words—not a threat, but a confession of his own nightmare.
“Then kill him,” Naomi whispered fiercely. “Tear your empire down to the studs, Dominic. Walk away from the blood, the syndicates, the violence. If you want us—if you truly want this family—then burn your own underworld to the ground. Otherwise, we are walking away forever.”
Dominic froze.
The silence in the room became absolute, save for the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the glass.
For five years, Dominic Moretti had ruled his empire with an iron fist, believing that power was the only shield against destruction. Now, standing in front of the woman he loved and the child who carried his eyes, he realized that power was the very thing that was going to destroy them all.
He released her shoulders slowly. He took a step back, his jaw clenching as a heavy, solemn realization settled over his features.
“Give me twenty-four hours,” Dominic said quietly.
May you like
Naomi watched him, her breath hitching. “What are you going to do?”
“Burn it down,” Dominic replied, his voice dropping into a dark, resolute vow.
