Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF A NAME
Dominic did not call Victor.
He knew better.
Instead, he called Walter.
The older man answered immediately.
“I know.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Of course Walter knew.
“Victor wants the archive.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have it?”
“Yes.”
Dominic paused.
“Give it to him.”
Walter went silent.
“Mr. Marino—”
“Give him everything.”
“That evidence could destroy Victor.”
“I don’t care.”
“It could protect the company.”
“I don’t care.”
“Dominic.”
It was the first time Walter had used his first name in twenty-seven years.
Dominic’s voice broke.
“He has my wife.”
Walter understood.
“And my daughter.”
Silence.
Then Walter said, “Good.”
Dominic frowned.
“What?”
“That is the first intelligent thing you’ve said all week.”
The exchange was arranged at an abandoned warehouse near Yonkers.
Victor wanted Walter alone.
Walter refused.
“I’m sixty-one,” he told Daniel. “If I’m going to do something stupid, I’d prefer witnesses.”
Police surrounded the area from a distance.
Dominic ignored their instructions and went inside.
Victor’s men had already moved Carrie.
The warehouse was empty except for a phone.
It rang.
Dominic answered.
Victor laughed.
“You always were predictable.”
“Where is she?”
“Your wife is inconveniently having contractions.”
Dominic’s blood froze.
“Take her to a hospital.”
“Give me the drive.”
“You have it.”
“The real one.”
Dominic looked at Walter.
Walter’s expression changed.
There was another copy.
Dominic understood immediately.
“You kept something.”
Walter nodded.
“Insurance.”
Dominic nearly exploded.
Then Carrie’s voice came through the phone.
“Dominic?”
Everything stopped.
“Carrie.”
Her breathing was strained.
“Listen to me.”
“I’m getting you out.”
“Listen.”
Another breath.
“If something happens—”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“No.”
“Take care of her.”
His eyes burned.
“Carrie, please.”
“I mean it.”
“You’re going to tell me yourself.”
Victor took the phone.
“Touching.”
Dominic’s voice changed.
“Victor, if she dies—”
“You’ll kill me?”
Victor laughed.
“That man disappeared the night your wife walked out.”
Dominic stared ahead.
Victor was right.
He no longer wanted revenge.
He wanted Carrie alive.
Nothing else mattered.
“You can have the company.”
Silence.
Even Victor seemed surprised.
“What?”
“Every share I control. Every account. Everything.”
Walter looked sharply at him.
Dominic continued.
“You want Marino Holdings? Take it.”
Victor laughed uncertainly.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Dominic swallowed.
“But Carrie will.”
Inside the van, Carrie heard the conversation through Victor’s speakerphone.
Her eyes filled.
Not because Dominic offered his fortune.
Because nine years earlier she had asked him a question.
If you had to choose between the company and us, what would you choose?
He had laughed.
That’s not a real choice.
Now it was.
And he had answered.
Too late.
But he had answered.
Carrie doubled over.
The contractions were getting closer.
One of Victor’s men panicked.
“She needs a hospital.”
Victor snapped, “Drive.”
“Where?”
Victor hesitated.
That hesitation saved them.
Carrie saw the unlocked phone beside him.
She grabbed it.
Victor reached for her.
Carrie threw it beneath the driver’s seat.
The driver looked down instinctively.
The van swerved.
A horn screamed.
Then metal exploded against metal.
The world turned sideways.
Dominic heard the crash through the phone.
“CARRIE!”
Silence.
Then sirens.
The line died.
For the second time that night, Dominic Marino ran.
Carrie woke beneath flashing lights.
A paramedic leaned over her.
“Ma’am, can you hear me?”
“My baby.”
“We’ve got you.”
“My baby.”
“We’re checking.”
Carrie grabbed his sleeve.
“Please.”
Then she heard it.
A heartbeat.
Rapid.
Alive.
She sobbed.
Police pulled Victor from the wrecked van.
His plan was over.
Carrie’s labor was not.
At 11:18 p.m., doctors performed an emergency cesarean section.
Dominic arrived before surgery.
He stood outside the operating room wearing blood on his shirt from climbing through the wreckage.
Carrie saw him through the open doorway.
Their eyes met.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Carrie whispered, “Come here.”
Dominic approached.
She reached for his hand.
Not because she had forgiven him.
Because she was terrified.
He understood the difference.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
His eyes filled.
“So am I.”
“If she—”
“She will.”
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“But she’s a Whitaker-Marino. Apparently both families are too stubborn to know when to quit.”
Carrie laughed through tears.
Then the nurses wheeled her away.
Dominic stood alone.
Twenty-seven minutes later, a cry came from behind the operating-room doors.
Dominic covered his face.
He sank into a chair.
And the man who had once believed crying was weakness sobbed in a hospital hallway where everyone could see him.
His daughter weighed four pounds, three ounces.
She needed respiratory support.
She needed the NICU.
But she was alive.
Carrie was alive.
At 1:07 a.m., Dr. Bennett approached Dominic.
“Mother and baby are stable.”
Dominic whispered, “Thank you.”
The doctor nodded.
Then she added:
“Mrs. Marino asked me to tell you something.”
Dominic stood.
“What?”
“She said you can see your daughter.”
Hope moved across his face.
“And Carrie?”
Dr. Bennett hesitated.
“She said she needs time.”
Dominic looked through the glass toward the NICU.
His daughter lay beneath warm lights, impossibly small.
He touched the window.
For the first time in his life, Dominic understood that love did not entitle him to access.
Carrie had given him permission to meet his child.
Not permission to return to her life.
He whispered through the glass:
“Hi, little one.”
The baby moved one tiny hand.
Dominic cried again.
“I’m your dad.”
May you like
He swallowed.
“And I have a lot to fix before I deserve that title.”
