Between Manipulations and the Name on Paper

Between Manipulations and the Name on Paper
Dominic’s Point Of View

I had already settled Marco DeGrassi’s debt. Massimo Esposito had been in his hands for three days. Now, the bastard was living in a custom-built cell inside Marco’s own house. A prison within a prison. I didn’t know exactly what his plans were, but I knew exactly the kind of man Marco was. He wanted answers about his brother, about the betrayal, about everything that had fallen on his shoulders. And, apparently, Massimo was the key to that. I didn’t like it one bit that that psychopath was breathing freely, even if he was chained up. But, at that moment, there was nothing I could do.

If an opportunity arose… I wouldn’t hesitate. A bullet to his head would solve a lot of things, but until then, I needed to focus on what was within my control. Making the Bratva stronger, more solid, more feared. Because if I really wanted to drive the Italians out of my country… I’d have to be prepared for war.

That’s what I needed to be thinking about.

Not on the divorce papers, not on Maggie’s look when I handed them to her, not on the way her presence filled every corner of that house… as if everything was finally in its right place, and definitely not on the fact that, as soon as our son was born… she would be gone. She’d take Jamie, she’d take the baby, and she’d vanish from my life as if she’d never belonged to it.

I got out of bed in the middle of the night, unable to stay there any longer. I left the bedroom and, as always, my feet automatically carried me to Jamie’s room. I opened the door slowly; he was sleeping peacefully, hugging that damn stuffed giraffe, his soft breathing filling the room. A small sound… but one that meant everything. I tucked the blanket around him, running my hand lightly over his head.

Just imagining that I wouldn’t have that every day anymore… that I couldn’t walk in there in the middle of the night and see him safe… it drove me to the brink of madness.

I closed the door carefully, and as I turned, my eyes immediately fell on the other door, which was ajar.

Her room.

I let out a heavy sigh before walking over there. I pushed the door open slowly; Maggie was fast asleep, her breathing slow, her face relaxed, her belly… big, round… carrying our child. She was lying on her back, wearing that damn black nightgown. I ran my hand over my beard, my gaze sweeping over the exposed skin of her thighs, her cleavage… every detail that seemed to have become even more… irresistible. Pregnant, she was even more beautiful. If this were any other situation… I’d be savoring every change, every detail, every second of this pregnancy.

Sex with her…

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the memory.

It had been something completely out of the ordinary. Intense, addictive. Almost… too perfect to exist.

I shook my head, opening my eyes again.

What the hell was I doing?

That wasn’t fair to her, or to me. For God’s sake, we were getting a divorce. I couldn’t say I was going to let her go… and, the next moment, want her on every surface of that house, and that was why I was keeping my distance, buried in work and the Bratva; in anything that kept me from thinking. When she was gone… all that would be left would be the anger, the memory of what she’d done, of her words, of the fact that she would never have come back… if I hadn’t discovered the truth. Without seeing her… without feeling her… maybe it would be easier.

I clenched my fist, stopping myself from touching her, from lying down beside her, from pulling her close. I forced myself to take a step back, until I was out of the room.

I needed a cold shower.

I was closing the door when I heard a low clear throat in the hallway. I turned around quickly and Yulia was standing there, leaning against the wall, looking at me with a suspicious gleam in her eyes.

“Are you two having sex in secret? She said you haven’t forgiven her and that she wants a divorce.”

I rolled my eyes, straightening my posture.

“We’re not having sex, and that’s none of your business.”

“What were you doing in her room?”

“I went to check on her,” I replied curtly. “Just like I did with Jamie. She’s carrying my child, and he could be born any moment. I’m worried.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word of it.

“Yeah, right. Just worry.”

I shook my head, impatiently.

“And have you talked to her yet? Since she told you everything?”

“No,” she replied, lifting her chin. “She deserves a little cold shoulder from me. She lied to all of us, and was going to disappear with Jamie… as if we didn’t matter.”

I studied her face closely. She wasn’t really angry, just… hurt.

“You should talk to her.”

“You want me to forgive her that easily?”

“You’re going to forgive her anyway.”

She snorted, crossing her arms.

“Of course I will. That idiot is my nephew’s mother… and my best friend.” She hesitated for a second. “And… deep down, I kind of understand what she did. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.”

I nodded slowly. I envied that—that clarity.

“So stop punishing her,” I continued. “Because you’re punishing yourself just as much. She’ll leave when the baby is born… and you’ll regret every second you wasted.”

Yulia fell silent, and her gaze dropped.

“You… really can’t forgive her?”

I ran my hand over my beard, letting out a heavy sigh.

“It’s not that simple.”

“She loves you.”

I laughed, without humor.

“I know.”

“You love her too.”

I swallowed hard.

“I do,” I admitted. “And I’ll probably love her for the rest of my life.” She stared at me, waiting for the rest. “But I don’t trust her,” I continued. “I don’t trust that, when things get tough again, she won’t run away. That she won’t do something to destroy me again.” My voice came out lower, more weary. “She may love me, Yulia. But she doesn’t feel like she belongs by my side, she doesn’t feel like Russia is her home, and she definitely doesn’t want to be the wife of a Boss.” The silence between us stretched on. “I don’t want her to be tied to me,” I concluded. “I want her to choose to stay, to be free… and still decide to stay with me.”

I saw Yulia’s chin tremble, and in the next second, she stepped forward and hugged me tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured against my chest. “I wish it were different.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, running my hand through her hair.

“Me too.” I took a deep breath. “But I can survive this.” I opened my eyes, staring into the emptiness of the hallway ahead of us. “If she… and my children… are safe and happy… I can accept anything.”

The next day, I left the house early again. The mansion was still shrouded in silence. I walked past Jamie’s room as I did every morning, opening the door carefully, almost holding my breath as if the mere act of existing might wake him. He was still asleep, and I stood there for a few seconds, watching. That always grounded me and reminded me of what really mattered. With him asleep, I couldn’t do our morning routine of picking him up, playing with him for a while, and feeding him breakfast as I usually did.

I left before my mind started wandering to a place I didn’t want it to go. I spent the whole day away from headquarters, taking care of what needed to be taken care of. I visited territories, observed operations, evaluated the new underbosses. Some still had a lot to learn; others were already beginning to understand the weight of the responsibility they now carried. Overall… the Bratva was returning to what it always should have been.

A machine. Precise, cold, and unstoppable.

I resolved conflicts, nipped problems in the bud before they grew, and made it clear, everywhere I went, that I was in charge, that things had changed, and that they would continue to change.

After that, I met with the Japanese for lunch. Dinner at my place had gone better than I expected. Not only had they accepted the terms, but they were also interested. Investment, support, influence… everything came easier than usual, and a large part of that… was because of Maggie. The way she spoke about the foundation, the projects, the impact she wanted to make… with an eloquence that couldn’t be taught. Natural, convincing, fucking smart. Irina wasn’t missed at all, because in the end, all those projects were Maggie’s. I saw the respect in their eyes, and that made everything easier. At that day’s meeting, we were already discussing expansion, strategy… and even the cleanup I intended to carry out in the country. They not only understood but made it clear they would support it.

When I returned to headquarters, I was satisfied—it was rare, but I was. All I wanted at that moment was to go home, pick up my son, and forget the rest for a few hours, but, of course… that would have been too simple.

I was walking into the lobby when I saw Noah coming out. He noticed me right away and turned toward me.

“Hey… I really wanted to talk to you.”

I stopped, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Don’t tell me it’s a problem. I’m in a good mood and I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiled, shaking his head.

“Actually, no. It’s an invitation. I’m sure Chiara has already talked to Maggie about it or will soon… but I thought it best to let you know first.”

That put me on alert.

I furrowed my brow.

“What’s it about?”

He let out a short sigh, as if he’d already expected my reaction.

“Valentina, Marco’s wife, is insisting on throwing some kind of baby shower… or something like that… for Chiara. At the DeGrassi mansion.” My jaw dropped instantly. “At first she tried to refuse,” he continued. “But you know how it is… in the end, she didn’t want to say no to the woman who raised her.”

I let out a dry laugh, completely devoid of humor.

“So you’re going to throw a party at the fucking DeGrassi house.”

“Basically.”

I ran my hand slowly over my beard, feeling my irritation grow. I had just paid my debt to Marco. I’d cut off all ties with them and made it clear that this wasn’t a truce… it was just a lull before the next war.

And now… A party with the people I planned to take down.

Perfect.

“They’re not going alone,” I said, bluntly.

Noah nodded immediately.

“That’s exactly what I expected.” He gave a half-smile. “That’s why I’m extending the invitation to you… even though I know that’s probably the last place you want to be.”

I exhaled through my nose, irritated.

“Damn it!”

“I know,” he replied, amused. “But you’re the one who told me to marry a DeGrassi.”

I glanced at him sideways. Marrying Chiara was the best decision he’d ever made; I’d never seen him as happy as he was now with his pregnant wife, building their family.

“I can see how much this is bothering you.”

He laughed out loud, giving my shoulder a light slap.

“I’ll see you there. Nicolai, Yulia… Maggie. We’re going to need a Russian contingent to balance things out.”

“Hmm,” I muttered, not committing myself. “We’ll see.”

He just nodded and went on his way, leaving me alone with that damn idea spinning in my head.

I went up to my floor with the simple plan of grabbing some documents and leaving, but the second I stepped out of the elevator, I saw my assistant jump up too quickly from her chair. That was never a good sign.

“Mr. Volkov…”

I stopped immediately.

“Is there something you need to tell me?”

She hesitated for a second.

“Mr. Volkov… your mother—not your wife—is in your office. She’s been there for a while. I told her you might be late, but she insisted on waiting.”

I closed my eyes for a second, letting out a heavy sigh. I should have gone straight home.

Without saying another word, I walked to the office and opened the door. She was sitting on the couch as if nothing had happened—with a cup in her hands, probably tea… because she never drank caffeine—as if I hadn’t kicked her out of the house days ago.

I shut the door behind me harder than necessary.

“What are you doing here? Wasn’t I clear enough?”

I went straight to the desk, pulling out the chair and opening the drawer, grabbing the papers I needed.

I didn’t look at her.

“No, Dominic. “You weren’t,” she replied, far too calmly. “You just kicked me out without listening to me.”

I laughed, quietly, without humor.

“I don’t need to listen when I already know the truth.”

I kept flipping through the documents, pretending to pay attention to them, even though I knew I wasn’t reading a damn thing.

“The truth is, your wife wanted to leave,” she continued. “She set it all up, then offered me a deal, and I accepted. Why would I keep someone by my side who clearly didn’t want to stay?”

My hand paused on the paper, and slowly, I looked up. She was already standing in the center of the office, staring at me as if she were completely in the right. As if that made sense and justified anything.

I stood up slowly.

“Don’t use Maggie to run away from the consequences of your choices.” My voice came out low… controlled… but heavy. “You never liked her. You saw an opportunity to get rid of her… and you took it.” I took a step toward her. “It has nothing to do with my happiness. It never did.”

She lifted her chin, maintaining that same posture as always.

“I did what needed to be done. What I don’t understand is why her choices carry a different weight than mine.”

I laughed again, this time harder.

“Oh, you want to talk about weight?” She didn’t answer, so I spoke. “Do you want to start with having an affair with the man who wanted to kill me?” I saw her face change. “Or do you want to talk about how you stood by him while he tried to destroy me? Knowing everything.” I took another step. “He set me up to get arrested. He orchestrated an attack where I got shot… and you knew that.” My voice hardened. “Want more?” Her silence was answer enough. “You only decided to help me when Maggie offered you something in return, when it was convenient for you.” I tilted my head slightly. “Because, in the end, it doesn’t matter how I turn out… as long as you get what you want, right?”

“Dominic…” she called, and for the first time her voice faltered slightly. Her face was paler. “I regret what happened with Vladimir. I didn’t know he wanted to kill you… I thought he was just pressuring you, trying to make you go back to who you were before her.” I clenched my jaw. “I never wanted him to really hurt you. You’re my son.”

That made me laugh, a real laugh with a bitter taste.

“I am?” I shook my head slowly. “Now you remember that?”

I grabbed the papers on the desk harder than necessary and started walking toward the door. Because if I stayed there another minute, I didn’t know what I’d do.

“I knew about Alina in Seattle… I knew you were listening to me that night while I was on the phone with Maggie.”

My body froze mid-movement; my hand was still on the doorknob, ready to leave that office and put that conversation behind me, but those words pinned me in place. I turned slowly; she turned to face me too, as if she’d been prepared for that moment, as if she’d rehearsed every syllable that would come out of her mouth.

“I met with Maggie so you’d know she was alive.” For a second, my mind just… couldn’t keep up. What the hell was that? I felt my jaw clench, my teeth grinding hard as I tried to organize any coherent thought. This had to be some kind of game. One more. “You weren’t going to get married or have any more children; you made that very clear,” she continued, her voice firm, controlled. “And I could see in your eyes that wouldn’t change. Somehow, that damn woman has a hold on you that no matter what I do or how far away she is, you’re not able to break free.”

I felt something dark stir inside me. Anger, confusion, and, worst of all… the growing realization that maybe that was true.

“I’m smart enough to know when I lose a battle and when I have to change my tactics,” she said, taking a step forward. “Sometimes you have to let go of some things to gain others that are more important. The Volkov legacy is the most important thing to me.”

I let out a low, bitter snort.

“Irina… you’re unbelievable.”

My voice came out colder than I expected, more weary than angry. Because, at that point, I no longer knew what to feel.

“I brought her back,” she insisted. “I’m willing to accept her if that’s what you want and what makes you happy. Dominic, you’re my son. I don’t want to live the rest of my life knowing that you hate me.” I stared at her. I searched her eyes for any sign of a lie, any crack in that flawless facade. “Yes, what I did was horrible,” she continued, her voice softening for the first time. “And I regret listening to Vladimir and supporting him while he tried to destroy us, and I hate that it was her who opened my eyes to the mistake I was making. I also have to admit that she has something… annoyingly suitable about her to be a good mafia wife,” she added, almost reluctantly. “Son, let’s start over… give me another chance. I’ll never meddle in your marriage again.”

Marriage.

The word echoed in my head like a mockery. I remained silent for a few seconds, just staring at her. Trying, in vain, to separate what was true from what was manipulation.

In the end… it didn’t matter.

“There’s no more marriage for you to meddle in,” I said, finally, my voice low and firm. “It’s pretty ironic that it ended just when you reluctantly accepted it, isn’t it, Mom?”

I didn’t wait for an answer; I turned my back and walked out. This time, without stopping.

An hour later, I could still hear her voice in my head. Every word. I drove back to the mansion with my hands firmly on the wheel, but my mind far away, racing too fast to keep up. A realization was forming, clear and brutal. From the moment Maggie decided to make that choice… nothing had really been mine anymore. Every step, every decision, every move. Manipulation after manipulation by different people, for different reasons, but always… pushing me. I killed the old guard, eliminated Vladimir, got Massimo out of jail, went after the truth about Maggie’s death. All because someone was pulling strings I couldn’t see.

I let out a low laugh, devoid of any humor. I had been a fucking puppet.

I parked, got out of the car, and strode through the house, trying to leave it all behind… but knowing I couldn’t. As soon as I entered the living room, I stopped; Maggie was sitting on the couch. Her eyes were fixed on the doorway, as if she’d been waiting for me for a long time, and the second she saw me, she stood up quickly.

Nervous.

I noticed it right away, and I stared at her, feeling a tightness in my chest.

“I was waiting for you,” she said. Her voice came out lower than usual.

“Is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?” I asked, taking a few steps toward her without even realizing it.

My gaze automatically drifted down to her stomach.

“No, I…” she began, but stopped. She looked away, as if she needed a second to compose herself, then turned slightly, leaning over the coffee table and picking up some papers.

My stomach churned.

“I signed…” She held out the documents toward me. I didn’t take them right away; I looked first at her hand, then at her face. “I’ve read everything,” she continued, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “And it’s more than I could ask of you. I don’t even need as much money as is mentioned there.”

I walked over to her in silence and took the papers. My eyes went straight to the signature. Her name formalizing the end of everything. I felt my jaw tense, an absurd pressure in my chest, as if something were being torn out of me with my own hands. I carelessly dropped the papers on the couch and looked up at her.

“Can I have my goodbye?” My voice came out hoarse.

She blinked, confused.

“What?”

I took a step closer.

“I’m losing you forever, Maggie.” That hurt more than I expected to admit. “I want a goodbye,” I continued, holding her gaze. “I want to be able to say goodbye to your body… I want to taste you one last time…” I swallowed hard. “I want to have a good memory of the two of us to carry with me for the rest of my life.” She didn’t answer, just looked at me, and the silence between us stretched out, heavy, laden with everything that couldn’t be put into words. “So I’m asking you… Can I have my goodbye?”

For a moment, I thought she’d say no, or that she’d simply walk away, but instead, she moved closer. She stood on her tiptoes, then her hands came to my face, firm, warm, pulling me down, and her lips touched mine.

The kiss began slowly, almost tenderly, but that didn’t last. Because everything that was trapped inside us… exploded. The kiss deepened, became urgent, desperate, as if we were trying to imprint on each other something that time couldn’t erase, and in that moment… that was exactly what it was.

A farewell.