Chapter 3 - The Silence Returns
The eviction of Elena Vasquez was carried out with the quiet, clinical efficiency that defined the Russo household. By 5:00 p.m., her single canvas suitcase was loaded into the back of a black car, and she was driven away from the Long Island estate without being allowed to say goodbye to the children. Dominic told himself it was necessary. In his line of work, anyone who gained that much psychological leverage over his family was a liability. A danger.
But by 8:00 p.m., Dominic realized he had made a catastrophic error.
The mansion had returned to its default state—a frozen, echoey tomb. Dominic sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table, a plate of untouched chicken marsala sitting before him. Across from him sat Lucia, Valentina, and Mia.
The change in them was terrifying. It wasn't just that they were silent again; it was as if the light behind their eyes had been violently snuffed out. Mia sat rigidly in her high chair, her lower lip tucked under her teeth, fat tears rolling silently down her cheeks, soaking into the fabric of her dress. She refused to hold her spoon.
"Mia," Dominic said, his heart breaking as he reached across the table to touch her tiny hand. "Eat some dinner, sweetheart. Look, Papa is here. We can play with the blocks after this."
Mia pulled her hand back violently, burying her face against her sister Valentina’s shoulder. Valentina, only eight years old, glared at her father with an expression of pure, unadulterated hatred. It was the same look Dominic’s enemies gave him before they took a bullet.
"Where is she?" Lucia, the eldest at ten, broke the silence. Her voice was raspy, unused, and sharp as broken glass.
Dominic blinked, a sudden rush of hope turning to ash. "Lucia... you're talking to me. Elena had to leave, sweetheart. She was just a worker. Papa will find you a much better teacher. Someone from a proper school—"
"We don't want a teacher," Lucia hissed, her eyes flashing with a terrifyingly adult rage. She stood up from the table, her chair scraping horribly against the hardwood floor.
"You sent her away because she made us happy. You hate it when we laugh. You want us to be dead, just like Mommy! You’re a monster, Papa!"
"Lucia!" Dominic roared, standing up so fast his wine glass overturned, a dark crimson stain spreading across the white linen tablecloth like a fresh pool of blood.
But the girl didn't flinch. She grabbed Valentina and Mia, pulling them toward the grand staircase. Dominic took two steps to follow them, but stopped at the base of the stairs. He watched his three daughters retreat into the dark upper wing of the house, their silence returning like a heavy, iron door slamming in his face.
Dominic stood alone in the grand foyer, surrounded by security guards who looked everywhere but at him. He felt smaller than he ever had in his entire life. He had all the wealth, all the power, and all the weapons in the state of New York, but he was completely powerless against the grief of his own children.
He walked slowly back to the kitchen. The scent of vanilla had faded, replaced by the sterile smell of stainless steel and cleaning chemicals. He looked at the wall. The purple crayon butterfly was still there.
He reached out, his massive, scarred fingers tracing the rough edges of the paper. Elena hadn't used a specialized clinical technique. She had simply given them a space where they didn't have to carry the weight of the Russo name.
"Marco," Dominic called out into the empty hallway.
May you like
His lead bodyguard stepped out of the shadows. "Yes, Boss?"
"Find Elena Vasquez," Dominic commanded, his voice hollow and defeated. "Bring her back. Offer her triple her salary. Tell her... tell her she can tape whatever she wants to the walls."
