? Hypocrisy ?
Alex finished the report: the train play, the revolvers, Pablo, everything. He was too tired to lie... and too scared to hold anything back from his uncle and boss.
Dominick listened in silence. Finally... Alex was done.
“I see. The train idea was clever from Dante,” Dominick said. “But if it drew attention away long enough for you to retrieve the revolvers, it gave the same opening for the assassins to do the same. A double-edged trick.”
He thought for a moment, then said simply,
“Still, I don’t think you could’ve done better given the time and the stakes. Good job, both of you... For the record, we knew about this in advance, but we hoped we would take them out without involving you two. Silvano insisted this stupid birthday gets celebrated on the right date.”
Alex didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
Dominick shifted his gaze, his tone sharpening.
“But this… Pablo. You should’ve reported him to Don Emilio instead of trying to protect him. Smart that you didn't escalate under the table or fought him... but once you retrieved the gun, the bodyguards could’ve handled him clean. A man with a knife isn’t much.”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “I wanted to give him a chance. A chance to walk away from all this.”
Dominick hummed lowly, almost to himself. “I’ve given dozens of those. People never take them. They’re stupid. I don’t know what Pablo expected, backing a losing horse.”
His voice hardened. “But be careful next time. He was just an inexperienced man. If it had been a real killer, maybe Katie would be dead instead of shot in the leg... All because you spared him.”
Alex snapped up. “Don’t put that on me.”
Dominick’s head tilted at the defiance— amused, almost approving. But Alex went on.
“It’s not on me if it happens. It’s on the killer. On Silvano, for hosting a party knowing there are killers inside the hotel—”
Dominick cut in smoothly, finishing the thought for him:
“—and for being a mobster who expects nothing but gifts and roses while he causes tragedies left and right.”
Alex turned, startled.
Dominick smiled faintly. “Or something like that... Right?”
The Undertaker stood and walked to the window. The city’s faint lights glinted off his reflection.
“I wasn’t blaming you just now,” he said quietly. “But I know the kind of boy you are. If something had happened to Katie, the one who’d blame her death on you... will be you.”
Alex didn’t deny it. Because it was true—and Dominick knew it.
“More importantly,” Dominick continued, “Seems we share more than I thought. We both hate hypocrisy.”
He angled his posture slightly, hands behind his back.
“Tell me, how do you think I see you? Your morals, your ideals, your principles?”
Alex thought for a moment. “That I’m weak. Pathetic. Na?ve.”
Dominick’s answer came without hesitation. “No. I respect you more than half the men I work with. I respect you even more than my bosses, the Dons, who still believe that their business will one day become legit and their sins will somehow be washed away.”
The words hung in the quiet lounge like a weight. Alex didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Only the ticking of a distant clock filled the space.
Dominick looked back to the city.
“I believe in good and evil,” he said. “That middle ground people talk about—the gray? It’s nothing but cowardice dressed as wisdom. Hypocrisy. The worst breed of it. People do terrible things, then hide behind the excuse that ‘life’s complicated.’ I don’t do that... I loathe it.”
Alex’s voice carried a faint tremor. “But you do those evil things as well. Earlier, you killed a man.”
Dominick chuckled. “Two. The one in the corridor was me, too. But guess what?” He turned his head slightly, a sliver of reflection cutting across his glasses. “I won’t sit here and justify it.”
He scratched the side of his cheek, casual—too casual.
“That was evil. I could’ve done things differently. I had the funds, the brains. I was even prepared for the infiltration. But time and money were more important to me than a young man’s life. That's how messed up I am."
“That’s why I don't deserve things like family, love, or peace. Furthermore, In my world, those aren’t virtues—they’re weaknesses. Look at Silvano. The moment Olivia was in danger, he turned into a pathetic, trembling fool.”
Alex watched him, chilled. The tone didn’t fit the words. This man had made peace with his own rot.
Then Dominick’s voice changed—lower, darker.
“On the other hand, the rest of the scum in this city will steal, rob, kill—and then dare to start families... Dare to enjoy it... Dare to breed.”
A flicker crossed his face. The faintest crease of memory, gone as fast as it came. Something personal—buried, unwanted.
"The only difference, Alex—the only difference between myself and those who sin—is that I know how it must end."
"Anyone who admires me is a fool paying twice: first for what men like me take from the world, and second for applauding it."
Alex sat still on the couch, staring at the carpet.
“Why… do you do this?”
Dominick didn’t answer... he just listened, knowing there is more to the question.
The boy went on, his voice small but steady.
“What makes you keep doing this? You lost everything. You care about no one but my mother—and you lost her too. This life made you lose your parents, your future. You were the best student in your school... and now look at you. And you’re still going?”
Dominick’s eyes lingered on something far away.
14 years ago.
The ship cut through the dark sea, a hulking steel shape gliding toward the Montivara Mountains. Its decks were quiet now—only the soft clang of chains, the creak of ropes, and the low murmur of two sailors on watch. They leaned on the railing, their breath misting in the cold, eyes drifting toward the lower deck.
There, under the ship’s lantern glow, they saw him—a tall, fair-haired man in a long black coat. Dominick. Even then, younger and beardless, yet colder than the wind. Beside him stood Vince—same sharp eyes, same face. The sailors whispered to each other, curious who the sleeping woman and her husband were, helped by Dominick Marviano as if under escort.
Gilbert held Elena in his arms, her head resting against his chest, her breathing uneven. The night wrapped around them like a shroud. He looked down at her, then at Dominick, and questioned every choice that led here—chief among them, serving the Dons as their doctor.
At the far edge of the ship, two small canoes waited, tethered to the side. Dominick’s idea, prepared long before boarding.
Without a word, Vince climbed into one, steadying it with the ease of habit. Dominick helped Gilbert lower Elena into the other. The waves lapped quietly against the wood as the four men descended into the still sea.
Gilbert asked. “Dominick... why not stay on the ship until it reaches the docks? Why are you leaving, too? The ship sails back to Portenzo City tomorrow.”
“Precaution,” Dominick said.
Just that. No more.
The sea was calm, black as tar, the moon hanging over it like a coin. The two boats rocked side by side.
Dominick pointed north. “Keep that way. There’s land after a few miles. Towns. Farms. The money I gave you will get you started. I don't want to see your face in the city again.”
Gilbert looked from Dominick to Vince. Same faces he’d known since they were kids in the slums. He wasn’t ready to part with them. Not like this.
He glanced down at Elena. “Dominick… is it true? About Matteo?”
Dominick’s face didn’t move. “She saw it. Fainted at the scene. Look after her.”
Gilbert’s jaw tightened. “Why, Dominick? You are rich now, you have everything you ever wanted as a child and more! What's the point of endangering yourself? What did Matteo do to you?”
"Why do you do this?"
The same sentence his child would say fourteen years from now.
"You got everything you wanted... all the wealth in the world. Why?"
Dominick didn’t answer. The oar dipped once, slicing the water clean.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Dominick, Vince...” Gilbert said. "Why... don't you come with us?"
Dominick turned his head, slow, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
“Both of you,” Gilbert pushed on. “We can start again. Away from the Dons. Away from Portenzo City. You don’t have to go back. They’ll kill you if they find out what you did. That you smuggled me. Maybe one day they will find out about Matteo too.”
The words hung over the water, too fragile for this kind of night.
He looked at Elena sleeping in his lap, then back at them. His voice softened, cracked a little.
“Like before... remember? When it was just the three of us in the old quarter, running schemes for fun, talking about what we’d be when we grew up... Elena used to brag about you, Dominick. That you're the smartest person ever... maybe we can have that back!”
Dominick’s mouth opened a fraction, shocked. Vince’s face, by contrast, was a flat stone. He looked at Gilbert like a man hearing an insult.
For the first time in years, Dominick’s expression softened. The hard planes of his face shifted, and he smiled, properly, humanly, a short, quiet thing that carried the memory of a boy from school rather than the man he’d become. It was the kind of smile that made Gilbert’s chest unclench, hope leaking back in.
Dominick turned that rare smile to Vince. “Want to go?” he asked, voice small enough the sea might have swallowed it.
Vince’s eyebrows lifted, cautious.
“Are you?”
Dominick looked at the dark water for a long second, then shook his head.
Something in Gilbert broke, slow and faint. For a moment, just a moment, he thought he’d been heard.
Vince let out a low breath, almost a snort. “Then neither am I,” he said. Calm, final. “You need someone to watch your back.”
The smile died on Gilbert’s face as the two canoes slipped apart, and the night closed over them like a hand.
“Goodbye,” Dominick said.
Then... he started rowing.
The two boats drifted apart. Gilbert remained still for a moment... then started rowing too, checking over Elena at every moment, at the faint shadow of land ahead. When he looked back, their canoe was gone, swallowed by fog. Only the ship remained, a black shape against the horizon.
Precaution.
The word wouldn’t leave his head.
Then the sea flashed white.
A sound tore the night apart — thunder, fire, splinters flying. The ship bloomed in flame, a brief sun over the dark water. The roar rolled across the sea, then vanished into the wind.
Gilbert stared, frozen, his oar slack in his hands.
That… was the precaution.
So no one would ever know who escaped that night.
Dominick scratched his beard, pulling himself back to the present, eyes on the horizon. “Because I have nothing else to lose,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not better at anything else... But I think there’s something else. I can't quite put it into words...”
“Alex. What do you want in life?”
Alex pressed his lips together, then answered quickly, like he was afraid he’d forget the words if he waited too long.
“I want to live a life I can be proud of.”
Dominick nodded once. His voice dropped.
“As for me—”
He looked back toward the city, his face half-lit by the moonlight through the window.
“I want to rise above those who once made me crawl...”
"I want... more. More of everything."
The way he said it chilled the air. Not with anger, but with certainty. It carried the tone of a man who would never stop, no matter who fell before him. The opposite of Alex’s world, who looked at him, wondering if there is anything... saving him.
Dominick smiled faintly. “That was surprisingly refreshing. I believe we’ve never had this kind of conversation. But tonight, we got to talk like an uncle and a nephew for the first time.”
He stepped closer, stopping near the couch. His eyes softened. “I just noticed… you’ve grown. A little taller since you came.”
Alex held his gaze— anger and pity fighting behind his eyes, but said nothing.
Dominick studied him, then spoke again. “Come to think of it, you never took payment for your work. And I did promise to make it up to you, didn’t I?”
Alex shook his head. “You offer me a roof. That’s enough. You know I wouldn’t take blood money.”
Dominick chuckled under his breath. “Anything else I can do, then?”
Alex was about to shake his head... then a wish came to mind. He looked up, with a pleading look.
“Let Dante go free from all of this.”
Dominick’s smile faded. “Not that. I need both of you to watch each other’s backs. Not that he will take the offer... He will want to follow you, to stay by your side. You're his anchor now. Not me.”
Silence filled the lounge, as Dominick thought of something else.
Dominick ignored it. “You say you want to go home? I’ll see to that. Not just that— you’ll go back innocent, just like you left. That's how I will pay you back.”
Alex’s voice dropped. “I’m not innocent anymore... No... I never was.”
Dominick’s tone softened — almost tender, in a way that was more terrifying than anger.
“You are. There’s no better judge than me to say it. Dante too. Because I’m the one forcing you, not giving you other choices. You are children— heaven's birds. I'm the scum who is employing you.”
He leaned slightly closer. “You’re more than innocent, Alex. You’re a redeemer.”
The word landed heavy.
“I’ll speak with the Dons,” Dominick continued, his voice quiet but firm. “See what I can do for you… so that one day, you can go home. I’ll think carefully about the missions I give you— for you and Dante— to keep the innocence you have.”
“In exchange… Never disobey me. Never betray me. Never play the hero without me approving it.”
"Or I might get mad."
“Deal?”
Alex hesitated, weighing the offer. Staying with Doctor Kranz. Staying away from tonight’s horrors. Protecting Dante while learning something that could matter in a real life. It wasn’t a bad deal. And yet… could he trust Dominick?
Finally, he nodded. “Alright.” The word was soft, almost a whisper, carrying a mix of resignation and relief.
“Good." Dominick said. "If you were a grown-up, I would’ve shaken your hand. But you’re not.”
Without another word, He bent at the knees and lowered himself to the floor, folding down like a shadow. His back faced Alex, still imposing, yet somehow… offering. There was an odd gravity in the gesture, a silent insistence that Alex could not refuse.
“You missed the conga line train earlier,” Dominick said, voice calm, almost conversational. “I’m not good at this stuff, but… hop on.”
Alex froze. Goosebumps raced down his arms. The scene was surreal, almost absurd — a man he feared, asking him to climb onto his shoulders. And yet, there was honesty in Dominick’s tone, and a weight of trust that pressed on him, almost unshakable.
Slowly, carefully, Alex placed his legs over Dominick’s shoulders, gripping the man lightly. His heart hammered in his chest. Dominick’s hands rose, steady and sure, lifting Alex as he rose to his full height.
“Thought you’d be lighter than this,” Dominick muttered, the faintest trace of amusement in his tone.
Alex stayed silent, unable— or unwilling— to speak. Every nerve felt alive, caught between fear, disbelief, and something like wonder. The city stretched below them, lights flickering like constellations against the dark.
Dominick stepped toward the window. The wind from the open balcony brushed Alex’s face, carrying the faint scent of the city at night.
“Enjoy the view,” Dominick said, softer now, almost teasing. “Like you’re the king of the world or something.”
Alex gripped Dominick’s shoulders, uneasy. Every instinct told him this could be a trap — a manipulation, a test. Yet… he chose to let himself feel it, to enjoy the rare warmth while it lasted. Moments like this were few and fleeting. The last shoulders that had carried him had been his father’s, the day he left the mountains behind.
Dominick, still steady, lit a cigar. The smoke curled upward, brushing Alex’s face. The boy froze, flinching.
“King says… put down the smoke,” Alex blurted out, flushing with embarrassment. His voice trembled slightly, uncertain how the feared Undertaker of Portenzo City would take a command from a boy.
A cough escaped Dominick, followed by a short, rough laugh, shaking both of them slightly off balance. Alex tightened his grip, heart hammering, while Dominick adjusted his stance, leaning against the window for balance before straightening again.
Then, to Alex’s surprise, Dominick dropped the cigar. “Alright, king. Just for tonight.”
Alex couldn’t see Dominick’s face from this angle—only the blonde strands catching the faint light—but he sensed something had shifted.
He shouldn’t be feeling this.
Not with a man who killed two people today.
"Is it really okay if I do this?"
But now—only now—his mind pulled up different memories.
Dominick saving his parents.
Dominick planting the shotgun on Silvano's back when he raised his axe earlier.
And the strangely warm and honest conversation, assuring him that he is innocent and that one day, he will see home.
For the first time, Alex let those memories breathe... and decided to not look at Dominick's criminal side.
Dominick, strangely, felt it too. Something buried deep, a warmth he had long ago convinced himself he didn’t deserve, flickered to life. In that moment, Alex wasn’t just a nephew. He wasn’t a tool. He wasn’t the sister’s son he had to protect because he had no other family left. For once, he felt like a real guardian, a witness to a life he could touch without destroying. But...
"I ruined this boy's life... I can't act like this."
He would not pretend, but… maybe it was worth it to enjoy the fleeting moment, just for tonight.
“Thank you… Uncle Dominick,” Alex said softly.
The words hit him like a bullet. Silence settled, thick and strange.
For a moment, the city was theirs, neither entirely honest nor entirely deceitful. Only the small, fleeting moment between them existed—and that was enough.
An hour later, the party was still going, though the mood had softened. The cake had been cut, the last dance played, and now families and children were beginning to leave while the night guests lingered behind.
Dante and Alex stood by the hotel’s main doors. Olivia waited a few steps away, seated in her wheelchair, with Don Silvano behind her and two handlers at her side. She looked better—not fine, not whole—but calmer.
Alex smiled.
“It was nice meeting you, Olivia. I’ll see you… maybe next year. And please, take care of your mother.”
Olivia nodded, then glanced down at her lap. Something small rested there—a paper bag, neatly folded. She held it out with both hands.
“For you,” she said. “Since you didn’t come down earlier, I saved one. I hope you find it delicious, Alex.”
Alex blinked, surprised. Inside was a thick slice of cake, carefully wrapped.
“And… there’s a letter, too,” Olivia added, her voice softening. “Don’t read it to Dante. Give it to him only when he learns how to read.”
Dante raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. Then he let out a small laugh.
“Fine. More motivation. I’m not slacking anyway.”
He paused, his tone turning quiet, sincere.
“Next year… I’ll bring you a gift.”
Olivia met his eyes and held them, saying nothing.
Then Dante turned to leave. He made it two steps before his leg gave out on the first stair. Alex lunged forward, catching him before he hit the ground.
“Good night, Olivia!” Alex laughed.
“See ya!” Dante grinned. “That was on purpose—I wanted to make you laugh!”
Olivia waved back. For a moment, she wished the night could last a little longer—just enough for the two boys to stay.
Silvano watched quietly as the doors closed behind them. Then he turned her wheelchair and began the slow walk toward the elevator.
The streets were quiet when Alex and Dante finally left the nobles’ sector.
Their tuxedos looked out of place now—creased, wet at the cuffs, reflecting the dim yellow light from the gas lamps that lined the narrow streets. The kind of silence that followed them wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind that came after too much noise, when your thoughts start echoing louder than footsteps.
Alex carried the paper bag with both hands, holding it like something fragile—like proof that the night hadn’t been all cruelty. Inside was the slice of cake, and the folded letter meant for later.
Beside him, Dante walked with a light in his eyes again, his head tilted toward the stars hidden by cloud.
The slums were drawing closer—broken lamps, muddy stone, the smell of coal smoke—but Alex’s eyes stayed sharp.
“We forgot to change,” he said. “Think we’ll be fine walking through in these clothes?”
“After everything tonight?” Dante grinned. “I’d like to see someone try.”
They turned into a narrow alley that sliced through two old brick buildings, the kind that swallowed sound. That was when Alex slowed.
A figure stood at the far end of the passage—small, still, framed by the faint light behind them.
Both boys froze.
"A mugger?" Dante thought. "Give me a break... After all what happened tonight?"
Alex’s grip tightened on the bag. Dante shifted his weight, lowering his stance slightly, ready for a fight even though his head still ached.
Neither spoke.
And then, the first drops of rain began to fall.
The figure didn’t move. Not yet. Just the faint patter of rain on stone, and the sound of distant thunder crawling closer.
Then—steps. Slow, deliberate.
Alex squinted through the dim light. And suddenly, the tension in his chest broke—not completely, but enough to breathe again.
“Leo?”
The boy stepped closer, and the light finally caught his face. Dressed in his usual street clothes—worn boots, a threadbare shirt under a rough vest, trousers frayed at the edges. His hair was damp and wild, drops of rain running down his cheekbones.
There was a quiet authority about him, something heavier than his size, the kind of presence that made Alex straighten instinctively.
“Is everything alright?” Alex asked.
Leo didn’t answer.
He just stood there, letting the rain streak down his face, eyes fixed on them both—on Dante, especially.
And the night... was far from over.
finally bonding.
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