Chapter 7 - Before You Accuse Me Again
Dominic’s fingers rested beside the purple crayon.
The child’s small hand was only inches away from his.
Elena noticed and gently moved the girl farther back.
Dominic let her.
That mattered.
Elena saw it.
The approaching figure’s shadow remained across the tablecloth, covering the drawn eyes.
The visual hit Dominic with strange force.
A shadow over Valenti eyes.
A child hidden beneath adult silence.
Elena staring past him with dread sharpened into readiness.
Dominic slowly turned halfway.
Not enough to reveal the person.
Only enough for the chandelier light to catch the tension in his jaw.
Marco stood frozen behind him, his large body gone rigid in a way Dominic had seen only a few times in their lives.
That frightened him.
Marco feared violence less than embarrassment.
Less than death.
Less than most men feared late payments.
But now he looked truly alarmed.
Dominic’s voice lowered.
“Marco.”
Marco swallowed.
No answer.
Elena’s voice came before Dominic could turn farther.
“Before you accuse me again… turn around.”
Every word was deliberate.
Barely above a whisper.
But it reached every corner of the sealed restaurant.
Dominic looked back at her.
Elena’s eyes were unblinking.
Protective.
Furious.
Tired.
Whatever stood behind him had not surprised her, but it had hurt her before. He could see that without knowing how.
The little girl clutched the purple crayon against her chest.
“Mommy, who’s there?”
Elena did not answer.
Dominic hated that the child’s question mirrored his own.
Who?
Why?
How long?
What had Elena survived inside the silence he mistook for betrayal?
He looked down at the tablecloth again.
The drawings.
The Valenti-like eyes.
The purple star.
The rain streaking the windows.
The wineglass shaking slightly near Elena’s hand.
Not because Elena shook.
Because the table trembled beneath Dominic’s own palm.
He lifted his hand.
The trembling stopped.
The shadow did not.
The unidentified figure remained just beyond full sight.
Polished shoes.
A dark lower coat.
Blurred shoulder.
No face.
No gender.
No name.
Dominic’s world was built on names. Names meant leverage, debt, blood, history, threat.
This nameless presence stripped him of that advantage.
Elena knew the name.
He could feel it.
She would not give it.
Not yet.
May you like
Maybe not ever.
Read Chapter 8 👉 Because the person behind Dominic remained unseen, but Elena’s silence made it clear the real story had not begun with the child’s eyes.
