Chapter 11: Wrench & Wrath
The single page fluttered, a white moth against the grease-darkened concrete of the garage floor. Mia’s chest heaved, the wrench still clutched in her white-knuckled hand, her wrist caught in the immovable vise of Dominic’s grip. Her eyes, wide and swimming with a pain far deeper than anger, flickered between his stone-carved face and the image on the floor. Catalina’s name, typed neat and clinical, was a branding iron in the flickering fluorescent light.
“You caught that, good for you,” Mia spat, her voice shredded. She tried to wrench her arm free. He didn’t budge. He just held her there, his own fury a silent, radiating heat. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you put the tool down,” his voice was low, a vibration in the close, oily air. “This ain’t that kind of fight, Mia.”
“What kind of fight is it, Dom? Huh?” A bitter, choked laugh escaped her. “What’s the code for this one? Family first? Family?” She threw the word at him like a brick. “You slept with our sister. Your twin sister. I let that go because I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That it was a mistake. A one-time, grief-stricken, fucked-up thing. But this?” Her free hand jabbed toward the ultrasound. “This isn’t a mistake you walk away from. This is a life. You made a life inside her.”
“I know what I made.” His voice dropped another octave, dangerous. “And it’s staying right here.”
Her fight drained out of her all at once. The wrench slipped from her fingers and clattered on the concrete, ringing dully. He released her wrist. She sagged back against the workbench, the edge biting into her thighs. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing oil and tears. She looked old, suddenly. Worn down by a secret she’d carried for them.
“How long?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the grainy image.
“Seven weeks.” He didn’t elaborate.
“And you were just… what? Going to hide it until she started showing? Move her in, let us all think she was just helping you through the Letty stuff? Were you ever going to tell me?” Her voice cracked on the last word. It was the real hurt, beneath the outrage. The exclusion.
Dominic bent down slowly, a grunt escaping him. He picked up the ultrasound. He didn’t brush off the grit. He studied it, his thumb tracing the edge of the paper, the same way he had in the car. The reverence in the gesture was undeniable.
“No one was ever supposed to know,” he said, still looking at the picture. “Not you. Not Brian. No one. It wasn’t about not trusting you. It was about… containing it.”
“Containing a baby?” Mia’s laugh was hollow. “God, you’re an idiot. This isn’t a blown engine, Dom. You can’t just drop a new block in and pretend the old one never cracked.” She pushed off the bench, pacing a few tight steps in the confined space, her arms wrapped around herself. “She’s my sister. My other sister. I’ve been watching her get thinner, jumpier… I asked her if she was sick. She lied to me.” She stopped, her back to him. “That’s what this does. It makes us liars to the people we love most.”
He said nothing. He had no defense. She was right.
She turned back, her eyes red-rimmed and fierce. “You’ve seen a doctor? A real one?”
He nodded once. “Private. This morning. Everything’s… normal. Strong heartbeat.”
The information hit her visibly. Some of the sharpest anger bled away, replaced by a dawning, awful practicality. A niece.A nephew. A tiny, beating heart that was, regardless of everything, family. The conflict on her face was a war.
“What’s the plan, Dom? You live together, play house? What’s the story when the baby comes out looking exactly like its father and its mother—who are also brother and sister?” Her voice was calmer now, laced with a terrible, clear-eyed logic. “You think people won’t see it? You think Brian won’t see it? He’s a cop, for Christ’s sake.”
“We’re figuring it out,” he ground out, the helplessness he’d felt in the doctor’s office returning. This was the wall they couldn’t engineer their way over. “Day by day.”
“Figure faster.” She walked over to him, snatched the ultrasound from his hand. He let her. She stared at it, her expression softening into something heartbreaking. “It’s really in there, huh?”
“Yeah.” The single word was thick.
A long silence stretched, filled only by the hum of the cooler fan and the distant sound of traffic on the boulevard. Mia finally sighed, a deep, shuddering release of breath that seemed to come from her toes.
“You’re the most selfish man I’ve ever known,” she said, but the heat was gone. It was just a fact. “And she’s just as bad for letting this happen. You’re both… damaged. In a way I guess I’ll never get.” She looked up from the picture to his face. “But that’s my niece or nephew in there. And it didn’t ask for any of this. So if you’re keeping it… then I’m in. Whether I like it or not.”
Dominic’s head jerked up. He hadn’t expected this. Not this raw, pragmatic clemency. “Mia…”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand. “Don’t you dare thank me. I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for her, and for that.” She tapped the ultrasound. “You will not cut me out of this. You will not make me lie to Brian by omission anymore. You tell me everything. The doctor appointments, the due date, what you need. I’ll be the aunt. The sane one. The one who buys the crib and throws the baby shower that you two can’t possibly have.”
He just stared at her, overwhelmed. The ally he needed most was the one he’d most feared, and she was offering a lifeline forged from pure, conflicted love.
“The story,” he said, the central, unsolvable problem. “For everyone else.”
Mia pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking. “We keep it simple. Cat’s seeing someone. It’s serious, but it’s private. A guy from out of town. He’s… overseas. Indefinitely. It fell apart when she got pregnant, but she’s keeping the baby. She’s moving in with you for support because you’re family and you’ve got the space. It’s sad, but it’s not… this.” She met his gaze. “We stick to that. We never, ever waver. We drill it until it feels real. Even to us.”
It was flimsy. Full of holes a determined look could expose. But it was something. A narrative to build around the truth.
“Brian…” Dom started.
“Brian will believe me,” Mia said, with a certainty that made Dom ache for his brother-in-law’s naive trust. “He’ll hate the mystery guy for hurting me, he’ll be supportive of Cat. He’ll buy it because I’ll be selling it. And because the alternative is unthinkable.” She handed the ultrasound back to him. “Now go home. To her. She’s probably a wreck.”
“She’s at my place. We were packing her stuff.” He hesitated, the paper feeling fragile in his rough hand. “You should come. See her.”
Mia nodded, fresh tears welling but not falling. “Yeah. I should.” She grabbed her jacket from a hook. “We’re taking my car. I don’t trust you to drive right now. You look like you’ve been hit by a train.”
The drive to the bungalow was silent, thick with the aftershock. Dominic stared out the passenger window, the ultrasound folded carefully in his inner jacket pocket, resting over his heart. Mia’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.They pulled up. The house looked ordinary.Peaceful. A lie.
Mia didn’t wait for him. She got out and walked to the front door, letting herself in with the key he’d given her months ago. Dominic followed, his boots heavy on the porch steps.
Inside, the scene was domestic and surreal. Cardboard boxes were scattered in the living room. Catalina was kneeling by one, folding a sweater. She looked up as they entered, her face pale, eyes instantly seeking Dominic’s. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Then she saw Mia. She froze, the sweater half-folded in her hands. Every possible emotion—fear, shame, apology, defiance—flashed across her face.
Mia didn’t say a word. She crossed the room, her steps deliberate. Catalina flinched, bracing for a slap, for more screaming. Instead, Mia dropped to her knees in front of the cardboard box and pulled her sister into a fierce, tight hug.
Catalina’s rigid body melted. A choked sob escaped her, muffled against Mia’s shoulder. Her hands came up, clutching at Mia’s back. “I’m sorry,” she wept, the words ragged. “I’m so sorry, Mia.”
“I know,” Mia whispered, her own eyes squeezed shut. She rocked her gently. “I know you are. It’s done now. We’re in it.”
Dominic stood by the door, the outsider in this moment of feminine, complicated solace. He watched as Mia pulled back, cupping Catalina’s face. “You look like hell. You eating?”
Catalina gave a wet, shaky laugh. “Dom’s on a crusade against takeout.”
“Good.” Mia stood, pulling Catalina up with her. She looked at the boxes. “This all of it?”
“Mostly. Just the big stuff left at the apartment.”
“We’ll get it tomorrow. All of us. Make it look like a normal family move.” Mia’s tone was already shifting into manager mode, burying the hurt under layers of necessary action. She glanced at Dominic. “You got a spare room we can set up as a nursery? Or is it just gonna sleep in a toolbox?”
“Back bedroom,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s empty.”
“We’ll paint it. Something neutral. Yellow, maybe.” Mia was making lists, building the visible world around the hidden core. “We need to find an OB who isn’t in the witness protection program, eventually. But one thing at a time.”
Catalina just watched her, a mixture of gratitude and profound sorrow in her eyes. The relief of not being cast out was a physical warmth in her chest, but the cost of it—the lifelong deceit they were now committing Mia to—was a new, heavy stone.
Mia walked over to Dominic. She poked him hard in the chest. “You. You take care of her. You go to every appointment. You learn what a prenatal vitamin is. You figure out how to install a car seat in that monster you drive. You become the guy this needs you to be.” Her finger jabbed again for emphasis. “Or you answer to me.”
He just nodded, meeting her gaze. The understanding passed between them. This was the new pact. The new, twisted iteration of family.
The evening bled into a strange, cooperative rhythm. They ordered pizza—Mia overruling Dominic’s health kick—and ate it sitting on the floor amidst the boxes. They talked about everything except the single, enormous thing. They talked about Brian’s latest case, about a funny noise in Mia’s Civic, about a movie they’d all seen. It was stilted, but it was an attempt at normalcy. A rehearsal.
Later, as Mia was leaving, she paused at the door. She looked at Catalina, who stood beside Dominic. “Get some sleep. Both of you.” Her eyes dropped to Catalina’s stomach, still flat beneath her t-shirt. A world of meaning was in that glance. Then she was gone, the door clicking shut softly behind her.
The silence in her wake was profound. Catalina leaned into Dominic, her head against his arm. “She hates us a little,” she whispered.
“She loves us more,” he replied, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. He felt the ultrasound in his pocket, a crisp corner pressing against his ribs. The tiny, beating heart. The impossible future. Mia’s fierce, pragmatic loyalty had thrown them a rope, but they were still hanging over the abyss. The story was set. The roles were assigned. The performance of their lives was beginning, and there was no understudy, no way out of the spotlight waiting to shine, one day, on a child’s face.
That precarious peace lasted less than twenty-four hours. They were mid-flow, carrying the last of Catalina's bedroom furniture—a heavy oak dresser—through the bungalow's front door when Brian’s Prius pulled up, silent as a ghost. Mia froze, one end of the dresser sagging.
"Shit," she breathed.
Brian was out of the car, his easy smile already forming. "Need a hand with the heavy lifting? Or is this a Toretto-bonding ritual I'm interrupting?" His tone was light, but his cop's eyes were already taking inventory: the moved-in boxes, Catalina's presence, the intimate, sweaty collaboration between his wife and her siblings. Something was off.
Dominic grunted, setting his end down on the porch."We got it."
"You sure? Looks like a two-person job at least." Brian mounted the steps, clapping Dominic on the shoulder. He peered past him into the living room, which looked like a storage unit. "Wow. You really are moving in, Cat. Making a fresh start, huh?"
Catalina wiped her forehead with her arm, forcing a smile. "Something like that."
"It’s good," Brian said, his gaze lingering on her. "Big change, though. You doing okay?" The question was genuine, layered with a subtle concern that tightened the air.
"She's fine," Dominic cut in, his voice a notch too tight. "Just… settling."
Brian's smile flickered. He looked at his wife. Mia’s expression was carefully neutral, a mask she wore poorly. "You didn’t mention you were helping today," he said to her.
"It was last minute," Mia said, too quickly. She patted the dresser. "Dom’s place is bigger. Makes sense."Yeah." Brian nodded slowly. He rocked back on his heels, the friendly facade giving way to quiet observation. The silence stretched, a rubber band about to snap. He knew when he was being managed.
He turned back to Catalina, his voice deliberately softer. "A fresh start’s good. Can help with… a lot of things." He was probing, gently, for the story behind the story.
Dominic shifted his weight, a block between Brian and Catalina. "We appreciate the concern, Brian. But we're good."
"I can see that." Brian’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. He took a step toward the open door. "You need a hand getting this the rest of the way in? Where’s it going?"
"Bedroom," Catalina said, at the same time Mia said, "The spare room."Brian stopped. He looked from one to the other."Which one?"
"The spare bedroom," Dominic clarified, his jaw tight. "Back of the house."
Brian nodded again. That cop’s brain was whirring now, cross-referencing the tiny inconsistencies. He decided to let it go, for now. "Alright. Well, I’ll grab an edge then. Three’s easier." He moved to Dominic’s end of the dresser.
The move broke the tension momentarily. They lifted, shuffled through the door, and maneuvered the bulky piece down the hallway. It was awkward, the narrow walls forcing them close. As they angled it into the empty back room, the box Dominic had hastily shoved under his bed that morning—a box containing Catalina’s medical folder, prenatal vitamins, and the ultrasound printout—caught on the doorframe with a scraping thump.
The corner of the box tore. A few items spilled onto the floor with a soft clatter. Bottles of vitamins rolled. The white envelope from Dr. Vance’s office slid out, its flap coming open.
And the grainy black-and-white ultrasound picture fluttered face-up on the scuffed hardwood.
Everyone saw it. Time seemed to slow, crystallize.
Dominic and Catalina froze, the dresser suspended between them. Mia made a small, choked sound in her throat. Brian, at the front, carefully set his end down. He straightened, his eyes locked on the image on the floor.
He crouched, not to pick it up, but to look closer. His brow furrowed. He read the name typed clearly in the top left corner: TORETTO, CATALINA. He saw the date. The measurements. The tiny, bean-shaped fetal pole.
The color drained from his face. He stayed there, crouched, for what felt like a full minute. The only sound was the ragged intake of Catalina’s breath.
Slowly, Brian stood up. He turned, first to Catalina. His expression was unreadable, a blank page where his usual warmth had been. Then he looked at Dominic, who had finally set the dresser down with a heavy thud.
He finally looked at Mia. The betrayal in his eyes was a physical thing. “You knew,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
Mia opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She just nodded, a tiny, wretched movement.
Brian’s gaze swept back to the ultrasound, then to Dominic. The pieces connected in his mind with a brutal, forensic clarity. Catalina’s move. The secrecy. The protective, territorial energy vibrating off Dominic. The “private” boyfriend who was never seen.
His voice, when it came, was flat. Dead. “It’s yours.”
Dominic said nothing. He held Brian’s stare, his own face a mask of defiant acceptance. That silence was the confession.
Brian nodded slowly, absorbing the utter collapse of his understanding of this family, of his wife, of the man he considered a brother. A raw, humorless laugh escaped him. “Okay. Okay, I get it now.” He looked at Mia again, his eyes glistening. “You were covering for them. You lied to me.”
“Brian, please,” Mia whispered, reaching for him.
He took a step back, avoiding her touch as if it were acid. “Don’t. Just… don’t.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his mind reeling. He looked at Catalina’s stomach, then quickly away, a flicker of revulsion and pity warring in his gaze.
“This is what you meant by ‘fresh start,’” he said to her, his voice cracking. “God, Cat.”
“Brian, it’s not…” Catalina started, but the words died. What could she say? It’s not what it looks like? It was exactly what it looked like.
He backed toward the hallway, needing space, needing air that wasn’t thick with this secret. “I can’t… I need to…” He shook his head, utterly lost. He was a man who solved puzzles, and this was a picture he could not force himself to see complete.
Without another word, he turned and walked out. They heard his footsteps, quick and heavy, down the hall. The front door opened, then closed with a quiet, definitive click.
The sound echoed in the silent room. The three of them stood amidst the upended dresser and the spilled evidence of their reality. The ultrasound still lay on the floor between them, Catalina’s name screaming up from the chaos.
Dominic finally moved. He walked over, picked up the picture, and slid it back into the torn envelope. His movements were slow, mechanical. The performance was over. The spotlight was on, harsh and unflinching, and the audience of their carefully constructed world was walking out.
The spotlight was on, harsh and unflinching, and the audience of their carefully constructed world was walking out. The quiet click of the front door was a gunshot in the silence that followed. Mia broke first, a gasp that turned into a ragged breath. “I have to go after him.” She was already moving, stumbling over a box in her haste to reach the hallway. “I have to make him understand.”
“Mia, wait,” Dominic’s voice was gravel, but it stopped her. She looked back, her face a mask of panic and guilt. He gestured to Catalina, who had not moved from her spot by the tipped-over dresser. She was staring at the place on the floor where the ultrasound had lain, her skin the color of old paper. “He needs to cool off. You rushing out there now… it’s gasoline.”
“He’s my husband, Dom! He just found out his wife has been lying to him for months about something… about this!” Her voice cracked, high and desperate. “I can’t just let him drive away. I have to fix this.” She turned fully, pleading now. “We had a story! We had a plan. It’s ruined. I have to find him and at least try to…” The sentence died, hopeless.
Dominic crossed the room to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. He forced her to look at him, to focus through the spiraling terror. “Listen to me. You chasing him down while he’s seeing red won’t end with him understanding. It ends with him saying things he can’t take back.” His grip was firm, an anchor. “Give him an hour. Let the shock wear down. Then you call him. Meet somewhere neutral. Not here.”
Mia’s eyes darted to Catalina, then back to him. She was trembling. The logic was sound, but every instinct screamed to run, to repair the fracture before it became a permanent chasm. She swallowed hard, gave a jerky nod. “Okay. Okay, an hour. I’ll… I’ll stay. We should…” Her gaze swept the disastrous room, the task impossible.
Dominic released her, turning his attention to Catalina. She hadn’t reacted to their exchange. She was a statue, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the dresser as if for balance. “Cat,” he said, his voice softening.
She blinked slowly, her eyes focusing on him with immense effort. The shock was a physical shroud. “He looked at me like I was contaminated,” she whispered. The words were thin, airy. “Like I was something broken left on the side of the road.”
“He just needs time,” Dominic repeated, the phrase feeling hollow even to him. He approached her carefully, as one would a spooked animal. “Come sit down. You’re shaking.”
She allowed him to guide her away from the furniture, her steps unsteady. He led her to the living room couch, clearing a space amid the half-filled boxes. She sank down, her body folding in on itself. Mia followed, hovering, wringing her hands. “Do you want water? I’ll get you water.” She fled to the kitchen, needing a task.
Dominic crouched in front of Catalina, trying to catch her downcast eyes. “Look at me. It’s out. It’s done. The worst part is over.” He was lying, and they both knew it. The worst part was a spreading stain, seeping into every corner of their future.
She finally met his gaze, her own filled with a liquid, drowning fear. “It’s not over. He’s a cop, Dom. What if he… what if he feels like he has to report something? Not about us, but… about the baby’s welfare? What if he thinks we’re unfit?” The new fear, legal and cold, unfurled inside her. Brian’s decency, his ingrained sense of duty, could now be turned against them.
“He won’t,” Dominic said, with more certainty than he felt. “He’s family. It stays in the family.” He reached for her hand. Her fingers were icy. He chafed them gently between his own, trying to impart some warmth, some reality.
Mia returned with a glass of water, her own hands trembling enough to make it slosh. Catalina took it, sipped mechanically, and set it aside on a box. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Each second was a weight.
Then, as Catalina shifted on the couch, preparing to stand, Dominic’s eyes dropped. His breath hitched. The pale grey fabric of her yoga pants was darkening, a slow, blooming stain spreading from the inner seam of her thigh downwards.
It wasn’t a shadow. It was wet.It was deliberate.
“Cat,” he said, his voice dropping to a thread.
She followed his fixed stare. Her own face, already pale, went utterly bloodless. A blank, silent horror. She looked down at herself, at the unmistakable crimson patch growing against the grey. Her hand flew to her lower abdomen, pressing there.
“Oh god,” Mia whispered, the glass she was holding clattering to the floor. Water splashed across the hardwood, mingling with the dust.
“Dom?” Catalina’s voice was a child’s, small and confused. Her wide, terrified eyes found his again, seeking an answer he couldn’t give.
He didn’t speak. Action replaced thought. In one fluid motion, he slid his arms under her knees and behind her back, lifting her from the couch. She was frighteningly light. “Keys. My keys. Now,” he barked at Mia, already moving toward the door.
Mia scrambled, her fingers clumsy as she snatched the Charger’s keys from the hook. She yanked the front door open ahead of him. “Is she… is it…”
“Don’t say it,” he growled, his focus entirely on the weight in his arms, on the feel of the dampness now seeping through her pants onto his forearm. He carried her down the porch steps, Mia rushing ahead to throw open the passenger door of the Charger.
He settled Catalina into the seat as gently as he could, buckling the belt across her lap. Her hands were clenched in tight fists on her knees, her knuckles white. She was staring straight ahead, her breathing shallow and rapid.
“Mia, you drive. I’ll hold her.” He didn’t wait for agreement. He tossed the keys to Mia and slid into the backseat, pulling Catalina sideways so her shoulders rested against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, anchoring her. “Look at me. Keep looking at me.”
Mia slammed the driver’s door, fired the engine with a roar that sounded like fury, and reversed out of the driveway with a screech of tires. She didn’t ask where. There was only one place. The downtown office.Dr. Vance.
Catalina turned her face into Dominic’s neck, a low whimper escaping her. He could feel the fine tremors wracking her body. “It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured into her hair, the lie a desperate mantra. “We’re going fast. Just hold on. Hold on to me.”
He looked down. The dark stain was wider now, a terrible map spreading on the light fabric. The coppery, intimate scent of blood filled the close air of the car. Each red light Mia blasted through was a lifetime. Each corner taken at speed jostled them, and Catalina winced, burying her face deeper.
Mia’s eyes were glued to the road, her jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in her cheek. “Almost there,” she said, to them or to herself. “Almost there.”
Dominic held his sister, the mother of his child, and watched the city blur past the window. The echo of a heartbeat, a frantic whoosh-whoosh-whoosh that had filled a quiet room just that morning, was now a silent, screaming absence. The future, so brutally exposed, was now bleeding away in his arms.