🫖 The Waitress Who Shielded His Mother and Became the Mafia Boss’s Wife

Chapter 06 - Beneath Booth Four

Sadi left the hospital three days later against everyone’s better judgment and with a written list of instructions long enough to qualify as a novella.

Dominic read every line.

“Do not lift anything heavier than five pounds,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning to lift your ego.”

Gabriel coughed into his fist.

Dominic did not look amused.

But when he helped her into the armored SUV, his hand at her elbow was careful enough to undo her irritation.

Sal’s Diner looked smaller after violence.

Yellow tape hung loose across the entrance. Boards covered the broken windows. Rain had cleaned some of the blood from the pavement, but the smell inside remained: coffee, smoke, old grease, and something metallic that made Sadi’s stomach turn.

Dominic paused beside her.

“You do not have to go in.”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.”

Booth Four was overturned, the oak table dragged sideways from the night Dominic had reached Rosa. Sadi stood there, breathing shallowly, while Gabriel knelt with tools.

Sal had been specific.

The box was not under the booth itself. It was beneath the cracked black tile under the table leg that wobbled in winter.

“Your mother always hated that table,” Sal said from near the counter. His face was pale. Dominic had not allowed him out of sight.

Sadi looked back. “You knew her well?”

Sal’s eyes flicked toward Rosa, who had insisted on coming and now stood in the doorway with two guards behind her.

“Well enough to owe her.”

Gabriel lifted the tile.

Beneath it was a narrow metal compartment, dusty but dry. Sadi’s key fit the lock.

Dominic held out his hand. “Let me.”

“No.”

“Sadi.”

“My mother left it for me.”

His hand lowered.

She turned the key.

Inside was a small black box wrapped in oilcloth. Her fingers shook as she opened it. The first thing she saw was a stack of papers tied with red thread. The second was a cassette tape. The third was a silver baby bracelet engraved with her name.

Sadi.

Not Sarah. Not Sadie with an e, the way strangers often misspelled it.

Sadi.

Beneath the bracelet lay a letter.

My darling girl,

If you are reading this, then someone has forced the past back into your hands. I am sorry. A mother should leave recipes, photographs, silly notes tucked in winter coats—not ledgers full of dangerous men.

Sadi stopped because the words blurred.

Dominic stood close enough that she could feel his warmth, but he did not touch her.

She continued.

Your father did not abandon us. Tom Hayes died because he refused to look away. Angelo Russo promised me justice, then died before he could deliver it. Rosa tried to help. Do not hate her too quickly. Fear makes cowards of good people, and grief makes judges of children.

Sadi made a small sound.

Rosa covered her mouth.

At the bottom of the letter, Elaine had written one final line.

Trust the son only if he chooses truth over blood.

Sadi looked at Dominic.

His face had gone still.

Before either could speak, Gabriel removed the cassette.

“There’s more.”

Sal shook his head. “Don’t play it here.”

Dominic turned to him. “Why?”

“Because once you hear it, you’ll kill someone.”

“No,” Sadi said.