Chapter 7 - The Wedding Dress and the Threat
Saturday morning arrived with a blinding, freezing drizzle that turned the farmhouse driveway into a sea of gray mud.
Aunt Emma’s wedding was a modest, heartbreaking affair held in the cramped living room of the farmhouse, with twenty chairs squeezed between the fireplace and the piano. Margaret had insisted on attending, sitting in her rocking chair wrapped in a thick wool quilt, her eyes shining with tears as Emma walked down the makeshift aisle in a simple cream dress.
Dominic stood beside Sophia in the back of the room. He wore a dark wool coat over a crisp button-down shirt, looking entirely out of place yet completely commanding among the local farmers and cousins who kept glancing sideways at him with intense curiosity.
During the vows, Sophia felt Dominic’s hand brush against hers. Without looking up, she slid her fingers into his, letting him intertwine his hand with hers. His grip was firm, grounding, anchoring her against the emotional weight of the room.
After the ceremony, while the family gathered around the kitchen counter to cut a lopsided cake, Henry Carter cornered Dominic by the back door.
Sophia saw them from across the room—her father’s face dark and rigid, Dominic standing completely still, listening with a terrifying, unreadable calm.
"I ran your plates," Henry muttered, keeping his voice low so the rest of the room wouldn't hear. "Through a cousin of mine down at the county courthouse. Turns out, Dominic Moretti isn't an investment broker at all."
Dominic didn't blink. "Is that right?"
"That's right," Henry sneered, leaning in close. "You're tied up with shipping conglomerates in Newark and financial holdings in Manhattan that regular people only read about in police blotters. Men like you don't date waitresses from rural Pennsylvania out of the goodness of their hearts. What are you playing at? Are you laundering money through my daughter? Are you using her as leverage?"
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into two cold, dark slits. The polite, gentle suitor vanished in a single heartbeat, replaced by the ruthless master of Manhattan.
"If you ever use the word 'leverage' in the same sentence as your daughter again, Mr. Carter, you won't live long enough to regret it," Dominic whispered, his voice dropping into a register so chillingly quiet that Henry involuntarily stepped back. "I didn't come here to hurt Sophia. I came here because a three-year-old girl asked me to give her mother a moment of peace. If you ruin this weekend for your dying wife by playing detective, I won't just walk out of your life—I'll strip this farm down to the bare dirt and leave you with nothing."
Henry stared at him, his face draining of all color. The bravado evaporated, leaving behind a terrified old man who suddenly realized he had poked a sleeping dragon.
May you like
"Get out of my house," Henry choked out, his voice trembling.
"Gladly," Dominic said smoothly, adjusting his cuffs. "As soon as the cake is finished."
