Chapter 13 - The Mother's Safehouse
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The threat was neutralized, but Clara needed to be sure.
The next morning, Dominic drove her to a highly classified, heavily guarded compound in the deep woods of Wisconsin. It was a private medical facility owned entirely by the Russo syndicate, designed to protect the most vulnerable family members.
When Clara walked into the sunny, beautiful sunroom, her mother was sitting in a rocking chair, knitting a yellow scarf. She looked peaceful, entirely unaware of the war that had raged over her safety.
"Mom?" Clara whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
Her mother looked up, her cloudy eyes squinting for a moment before a warm smile broke across her wrinkled face. "Clara, my sweet girl. You came to visit."
Clara rushed forward, dropping to her knees and hugging her mother tightly. "I'm here, Mom. I'm right here. You're safe."
"Of course I'm safe," her mother patted her back gently. "That nice young man with the broad shoulders makes sure the nurses give me extra pudding."
Clara laughed through her tears, looking back at Dominic, who was standing quietly in the doorway, watching the scene with a profound softness in his eyes.
"He's a very good man, Mom," Clara said, wiping her face.
"He looks at you the way your father used to look at me," her mother murmured, drifting slightly into her memories. "Like you hung the moon."
Clara stood up and walked over to Dominic. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.
"Thank you," Clara whispered. "For protecting her. For protecting me."
"It's my job, Clara," Dominic murmured, kissing the top of her head. "You are the center of my empire. If you fall, it all falls."
They spent the afternoon sitting with her mother, enjoying a rare moment of absolute peace. For the first time in her life, Clara didn't feel like a burden. She didn't feel like she was taking up too much space. She felt entirely, perfectly loved.
But in the world of the mafia, peace is always an illusion.
As they were driving back to Chicago, Dominic’s encrypted phone buzzed. He answered it, and his face instantly hardened into a mask of stone.
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"What is it?" Clara asked, sitting up straight.
"The Syndicate Commission," Dominic said grimly. "They've called an emergency summit. They want to vote on my fitness to lead."
