My Father’s Name Was Already in Dominic’s File

Chapter 02 - My Father’s Name Was Already in Dominic’s File

Mara woke eleven days later.

She did not wake gracefully.

No soft eyelids.

No beautiful first word.

She woke choking against a tube.

Hands restrained loosely so she would not pull lines.

Pain everywhere.

A nurse leaned over her.

“Don’t fight it.”

Mara fought it.

Then sedation pulled her under again.

The second waking was slower.

Ventilator gone.

Oxygen at her nose.

Throat raw.

Dominic was not there.

She did not know yet that she should be angry with him.

Isabella sat beside the bed reading a newspaper.

When Mara opened her eyes, Isabella lowered it.

For a second neither woman spoke.

Then Mara whispered:

“You.”

Isabella smiled.

“Unfortunately.”

Mara tried to laugh.

Pain stopped her.

“Don’t.”

Isabella reached for the call button.

“Save comedy for after they remove more tubes.”

A nurse came.

Vitals.

Questions.

Name.

Date.

City.

Mara got city wrong the first time.

Tried again.

Chicago.

Then memory.

Ballroom.

Gun.

Isabella beneath her.

Mara’s heart rate climbed.

The nurse told Isabella to leave.

Mara grabbed the older woman’s wrist.

Weakly.

“Alive?”

Isabella understood.

“Yes.”

Mara closed her eyes.

The next three days taught her that surviving was mostly administrative.

Pain scales.

Respiratory exercises.

Physical therapy assessment.

Wound care.

Consent forms.

Doctors explaining retained fragments and possible nerve symptoms.

No one called her miraculous.

Thank God.

Her body did not feel miraculous.

It felt borrowed.

Dominic visited on day fourteen.

Mara was sitting up with help.

Hair unwashed.

Hospital gown.

Gold ring on a cord beside the bed.

Not on her finger.

A nurse had removed it when swelling worsened.

Mara noticed him looking at it.

“So.”

Her voice remained rough.

“You married me.”

Dominic stopped.

“I declared that you were under my protection.”

“People say married.”

“I know.”

“Was I conscious?”

“No.”

“Did I sign anything?”

“No.”

“Then we are not married.”

“No.”

Mara stared at him.

He did not blink.

That annoyed her.

“Why put a ring on me?”

“Because Victor Costa’s people were checking hospitals.”

“Who?”

“A man who wanted my mother dead.”

“So you lied.”

“Yes.”

“To criminals.”

“Yes.”

“With my name.”

“Yes.”

Mara looked toward the ring.

“Take it.”

Dominic did.

No argument.

That helped.

Not enough.

Then Mara asked:

“Why did they want me?”

Dominic’s jaw shifted.

“For stopping the shooting.”

“That doesn’t sound complete.”

“No.”

She watched him.

“You knew my name before the shooting.”

He said nothing.

Mara’s pulse changed.

Isabella had told her only that there was “family history.”

Nothing else.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“A file.”

“Why did you have a file on a hotel waitress?”

Dominic sat.

Not close.

Across the room.

“Your father.”

Mara went still.

“My father died when I was twelve.”

“Yes.”

“What does he have to do with you?”

Dominic looked toward the window.

Mara hated people who looked away before telling the truth.

“Look at me.”

He did.

“My father, Antonio Rossi, accused David Bennett of stealing from a charitable housing fund twenty-one years ago.”

Mara’s mouth went dry.

Her father had been an accountant.

She knew that.

What her mother said:

He made mistakes.

The company blamed him.

We left New York.

Then he died from a stroke four years later.

Mara had been twelve.

“What housing fund?”

“Rossi Veterans Housing.”

She stared.

Her father had never been military.

Dominic continued.

He worked as an outside accountant.

Found discrepancies.

Then, according to Rossi records, money disappeared and David signed a settlement admitting responsibility.

“How much?”

“Six million.”

Mara almost laughed.

Her family had lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Cleveland.

Ellen worked reception at a dental office.

David repaired appliances at night.

Six million dollars had never touched them.

“He didn’t take it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Think?”

“Four days before the gala, Enzo found an archived memorandum from my father.”

Dominic opened a slim folder.

Mara did not reach for it.

“What does it say?”

Dominic answered.

Antonio believed David had been framed.

By Victor Costa.

The same man now linked to the assassination attempt.

Mara’s body seemed to go cold despite the blanket.

“Why?”

“Victor managed the housing contractors.”

“Then why blame my father?”

“Because my father had illegal money mixed into legitimate accounts.”

Dominic did not soften it.

“Exposing Victor publicly would have exposed Antonio’s other crimes.”

Mara’s eyes burned.

“So your father chose mine.”

“Yes.”

“As a sacrifice.”

“Yes.”

The word sat between them.

Mara looked at the oxygen line.

The IV.

Her bandaged arm.

Then laughed once.

Pain stopped her again.

“Your family has a theme.”

Dominic absorbed it.

No defense.

Mara asked:

“What was in the memorandum?”

Antonio wrote that David discovered Victor’s theft.

Victor threatened Ellen and Mara.

Antonio forced David to sign a confession in exchange for moving the Bennett family out of New York and making Victor stop.

“Did he?”

“Stop?”

“Yes.”

“For a while.”

Mara closed her eyes.

Of course.

Then:

“Why were you looking for me now?”

Dominic hesitated.

Wrong.

Mara saw it.

“That is the part Enzo thinks I won’t forgive.”

His eyes sharpened.

“How do you know that?”

“Your people whisper like Italian opera.”

Despite everything, the corner of his mouth moved.

Mara did not smile.

“Answer.”

Dominic had found a second document.

A trust.

Antonio had placed $2.4 million of legitimate money into an account for David Bennett’s family.

Restitution.

But the trust required a Rossi representative to certify that David had not personally benefited from the stolen funds.

No one ever did.

Antonio died.

The trust sat dormant.

Current value:

Almost $5.8 million.

Mara stared.

“Why now?”

“Because Enzo found it during a records review.”

“Why review those records?”

Another hesitation.

Dominic said:

“I was auditing Victor Costa.”

“Why?”

“Because I suspected he was moving money against me.”

Mara understood slowly.

She was not found because remorse woke up.

She was found because Dominic was hunting an enemy.

Her father’s ruined life had become useful evidence.

“You weren’t looking for me to apologize.”

“No.”

“You were looking for me because my father could help you destroy Victor.”

“Yes.”

The honesty made it worse.

Mara looked away.

Dominic said:

“I also intended to release the trust if the documents checked out.”

“Generous.”

His face tightened.

“Not generous.”

“Then what?”

“Late.”

That answer reached her and made her angrier.

She pressed the call button.

Dominic stood.

“Mara.”

“Leave.”

He did.

No protest.

At the door she said:

“One thing.”

He turned.

“Did Victor know who I was at the gala?”

Dominic took time.

“I don’t know yet.”

Mara looked at him.

“Find out.”

He nodded.

Then left.

Two hours later Enzo arrived with the answer.

Victor knew.

Not only that Mara Bennett was David Bennett’s daughter.

He knew Dominic had found the trust.

Because someone inside Rossi operations had sent Victor a copy of Mara’s file forty-eight hours before the gala.

The shooter had entered the ballroom with two targets.

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Isabella Rossi.

And Mara.