Chapter 5 Free from hell

Dominic

I spent fifteen years in a cage.

Four steel walls. Twenty-three hours a day. Cold concrete floors. No sunlight, no mercy, no truth.

Not one damn truth in that courtroom the day they sentenced me.

I didn't kill him.

But I let them believe I did.

And in the end, maybe that's just as bad.

The world outside hadn't changed much.

The buildings were taller. The air felt thinner. Phones were smaller and louder.

But power? Influence? Fear?

That hadn't changed at all.

It still moved like smoke, curling through backroom deals and private handshakes. It still belonged to the man who wasn't afraid to look death in the eye and smile.

And when I walked out of that gate, suit pressed, hair trimmed, heart steady I was still that man.

I didn't have to fake the illness for long. A favor here. A forged medical file there. A sympathetic doctor paid well to play her part.

I knew it wouldn't hold forever. But I didn't need forever.

I just needed out.

They said it was cancer.

They said I had six months to live.

The state reviewed my condition. My lawyers played their game. Catherine DeLuca's hands were tied in public even she couldn't rewrite the laws she built her empire on.

So they let me go.

No ankle monitor. No guards.

Just a ghost slipping back into the world he once ruled.

She's still fighting it, of course.

Aria.

She grew up well.

Sharp eyes. Hard jaw. Fire in her step. That same deadly conviction her father wore like armor.

I saw her that day outside the courthouse.

She didn't know I was watching, not at first.

But the moment our eyes met, she froze. Like a little girl again. Shaken. Furious. Ready to draw her weapon if I so much as breathed wrong.

I didn't flinch.

I raised my hand slightly in greeting. Or acknowledgment. Or maybe just to see if she'd shoot me dead on the steps.

She didn't.

Not yet.

I wasn't surprised when she started digging.

Didn't take a genius to guess that she'd beg Catherine to reopen the case. She's her mother's daughter in blood, but she's her father's daughter in spirit.

What surprised me was how desperate she looked.

Exhausted. Like she hadn't slept in weeks.

Like the truth was suffocating her slowly.

She still thinks I did it.

And maybe I did, in a way.

I could've spoken up. Named names. Burned the whole system to the ground.

But I didn't.

Because her father wasn't the man everyone thought he was.

And if she ever finds out what he did...?

It won't be me she's trying to destroy.

That night at the DeLuca estate was more than symbolic.

It was war.

Catherine knew I'd be there. Her brothers invited me directly after all, we share history. Secrets. Blood money. She might wear her halo high in court, but even saints have shadows behind closed doors.

And Aria... poor Aria.

She wasn't ready to see me. Not there. Not smiling. Not alive and well.

But she looked at me with so much hate, I nearly flinched.

It wasn't the hate that worried me.

It was the fear underneath it.

Because deep down, I think she's starting to realize

There's more to her father's death than anyone ever told her.

And if she keeps digging?

She's going to find bones.

They all looked at me like I was a ghost.

Some couldn't meet my eyes. Others shook my hand, lips pressed in false smiles while their palms trembled. Cowards. Every last one of them. Except Catherine.

She stood there across the ballroom in a tailored white dress, like a queen overseeing a gathering of traitors. Her eyes met mine, and for a second, I thought she might walk across the room and slap me in front of her precious guests.

She didn't.

Of course she didn't.

Catherine DeLuca doesn't make scenes. She plays chess in silence.

Aria was a different story.

She stood stiff beside her mother, wine glass forgotten in her hand, her jaw clenched so hard I could almost hear her teeth grind from where I stood. She didn't blink. Didn't move. Just stared at me like if she could set me on fire with her eyes, she would've burned me where I stood.

She has every right to hate me.

I can live with that.

What I can't live with is letting her carry a lie for the rest of her life.

Because the truth?

Her father wasn't just a cop.

He wasn't just a legend.

He was dirty.

And he died dirty.

They don't want her to know. Catherine, the uncles, the aunts all of them. They buried that truth a long time ago, deep under layers of fame, wealth, and legacy.

But now she's digging again.

Like father, like daughter except this time, the shovel's in her hands, and what she finds might break her.

Or remake her into something far more dangerous.

"You shouldn't have come," a voice hissed beside me.

I didn't need to turn to know who it was.

Luciano DeLuca. Catherine's older brother in law. An old friend, or as close as any snake ever gets to loyalty.

"Your family invited me," I said, sipping my scotch. "Don't act surprised."

He laughed under his breath. "This isn't your world anymore, Dominic. Stay quiet. Stay dead. That was the deal."

I turned my head slowly, meeting his eyes. "That deal died the day I walked out of prison. I'm not here to dig up graves, Luc. Not unless someone makes me."

He didn't answer. He didn't have to. The look in his eyes was enough fear. Not of me. Of what I might remember. Of what I might say.

Of what Aria might find.

She slipped away from the crowd later, heels clicking against marble floors as she stormed out the side garden. I watched from the shadows. Could've followed. Could've confronted her. Could've told her the truth.

But she wasn't ready to hear it.

Not yet.

Right now, I'm the villain in her story. The shadow of her nightmares. The man who took her father from her.

But one day... one day soon...

She's going to come looking for answers.

And when she does, I'll be waiting.

Not with apologies.

But with a mirror.

So she can see the truth for herself.

Because the rot she's trying to destroy?

It's in her blood.