Chapter 6 - THE MAN DOMINIC COULDN’T ORDER HOME
My mother found out I worked for Dominic Castellano through television.
That was my fault.
I had been vague.
“Private animal rehabilitation.”
Technically true.
Then a reporter filmed me leaving the estate after the Ridgeway warehouse raid.
The chyron:
FORMER SHELTER BEHAVIORIST HELPING CASTELLANO DOG IN ABUSE PROBE
My mother called before the segment ended.
“Avery Cole.”
Full name.
Danger.
“Yes, Mom.”
“You are working for a mafia boss.”
“Alleged.”
“Do not lawyer me.”
“I’m not a lawyer.”
“Exactly. Come home.”
I laughed.
Wrong response.
She did not.
My mother, Diane Cole, had spent thirty years as an emergency-room nurse. She had no patience for glamour, criminal mythology, or rich men.
“I mean it.”
“I have a contract.”
“Contracts can end.”
“Zeus needs continuity.”
“Dogs do not require you to date danger.”
“I’m not dating him.”
Silence.
Too fast.
Damn.
“Avery.”
“I’m not.”
“Do you want to?”
Mother radar.
Terrible.
“I have to go.”
“You are thirty, not thirteen.”
“Then stop asking thirteen-year-old questions.”
She sighed.
“Come to dinner Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“Without him.”
“Mom.”
“Without the mafia boss.”
Fine.
---
Dominic’s investigation expanded.
Federal prosecutors requested records from Castellano Protective Services.
His lawyers disclosed voluntarily more than required by subpoena.
Why?
Plea strategy.
Cooperation.
Maybe conscience.
Mixed motives.
Good.
He admitted to me one afternoon, not details but category:
“I used fear as part of business.”
I sat on training-yard bench while Zeus worked a puzzle feeder.
“What does that mean?”
“Threatening debtors. Pressuring unions. Paying officials.”
“Did you hurt people?”
“Yes.”
I went still.
“Personally?”
“Once.”
There.
He did not wait for me to drag it out.
“A man hit Marco outside a club twelve years ago. I beat him badly.”
“Was it self-defense?”
“No.”
“Charges?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My father paid him to leave.”
My stomach turned.
Dominic looked at Zeus, not me.
“I’m telling prosecutors.”
“Good.”
He almost smiled.
“No absolution?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
I raised a finger.
He sighed.
“Sorry.”
Progress.
---
I needed space.
Not from job.
From him.
So I changed schedule.
Morning sessions when Dominic was not present.
Written updates.
Dr. Feld on-site twice weekly.
Dominic accepted.
No sulking.
No sudden flowers.
Good.
Attraction decreased? No.
It became more inconvenient.
Because respecting distance is attractive when you want to be angry.
I hated that.
---
Two weeks later, my mother came to the estate.
Not for Dominic.
For Zeus.
She claimed she wanted to “see what kind of circus” I had joined.
Security asked whether I approved her entry.
Good.
I did.
Mom walked into training yard wearing white sneakers and judgment.
Zeus saw her.
Stiffened.
She stopped immediately.
I smiled.
“Look at you.”
“I listened when you explained dog body language for ten years.”
“Miracles.”
She turned sideways.
Did not reach.
Zeus sniffed from six feet.
Mom ignored him.
Perfect.
Dominic arrived ten minutes later because apparently God wanted entertainment.
My mother looked him up and down.
“You’re younger than I expected.”
Dominic blinked.
“I’m forty-one.”
“Still.”
I nearly died.
He offered hand.
She looked at it.
Then shook.
“Diane Cole.”
“Dominic Castellano.”
“I know.”
Of course.
He said:
“Avery is very good at her work.”
My mother answered:
“That is not permission to make her responsible for yours.”
Silence.
I stared.
Dominic did not get defensive.
“I agree.”
Mom narrowed eyes.
“Good answer.”
I wanted the earth to open.
---
After she left, Dominic said:
“She likes me.”
“No.”
“She did not stab me.”
“She was a nurse. Higher standards.”
He laughed.
Then:
“Your mother is right.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you becoming evidence that I’m a good man.”
I looked at him.
That was exactly what I had feared.
“Good.”
He continued:
“I don’t know if I am.”
Better.
“Do you want to be?”
A long pause.
“I want to do fewer things I have to rename later.”
That was an answer I believed.
Not:
good.
Specific.
---
Dario was arrested in Portugal.
No shootout.
Interpol coordination.
Financial warrant.
Extradition proceedings.
He fought return.
Lost.
He arrived in Chicago under federal custody.
Charges:
Conspiracy to commit assault and potentially attempted murder depending proof.
Animal cruelty conspiracy.
Fraud.
Illegal surveillance.
Obstruction.
Financial crimes tied to Ridgeway.
Corporate bribery.
The prosecutor did not initially charge attempted murder because Phase 4 documents said incapacitation, not death.
Important.
The media called it assassination anyway.
Lawyers did not.
I appreciated lawyers more every week.
---
Calvin Rusk cooperated.
He admitted CERBERUS existed.
He admitted implanting devices under veterinary cover.
A veterinarian named Dr. Peter Harlan performed surgeries using falsified records.
He was arrested.
Calvin said Dario’s final goal was not to kill Dominic.
It was to make him medically unfit for a critical board window.
Why?
Ridgeway acquisition.
CPS restructuring.
And one more thing.
A loan.
Castellano Protective Services had guaranteed a 90-million-dollar credit facility used by Matteo’s hospitality group.
Dominic planned to unwind the guarantee.
Matteo’s companies would need refinancing.
If Dominic was incapacitated before board vote, emergency committee could delay.
Dario wanted that delay.
Did Matteo ask him?
Calvin said he did not know.
Records showed Matteo complained to Dario:
Dominic is cutting family support to make himself look clean. Fix timing.
Dario replied:
I’m handling it.
Matteo:
No stupid moves.
Again.
Vague.
Dangerous.
Not explicit.
Matteo would face consequences for fraud/conflicts, maybe not attack.
---
Then the bodyguard Anthony Vale disappeared.
Not suspiciously at first.
He missed a scheduled police interview.
Phone off.
Apartment empty.
Dominic wanted to send men.
He looked at me before doing it.
I said:
“What do police want?”
He hated that answer.
Called Renee.
Police found Anthony at his sister’s home in Milwaukee two days later.
Alive.
He had panicked.
Why?
He had not told full truth.
The first bite incident involved him using the shock baton.
But he also carried a scent cloth Dario gave him.
Dominic’s old cologne.
Anthony knew it was part of test.
He did not know implant existed.
He had been paid five thousand dollars.
He lied because he was ashamed and afraid of prosecution.
Why flee?
Dario’s attorney investigator had contacted him.
Lawfully asking for interview.
Anthony interpreted as threat.
No threat.
Fear filled gap.
Good lesson.
He returned with counsel.
---
I told Dominic:
“If you’d sent your people, what would they have done?”
“Found him.”
“And?”
Silence.
“Depends who.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at me.
“You make everything slower.”
“Yes.”
“I hate it.”
“Good.”
He laughed.
Then stopped.
“Avery.”
“What?”
“When this is over, will you have dinner with me?”
There it was.
Not:
I’m taking you.
Ask.
I felt my heart do something unprofessional.
“No.”
His face did not change much.
“Okay.”
I continued:
“Not while you’re my employer.”
He blinked.
“That is different from no.”
“It is still no.”
“Yes.”
Good.
I smiled.
“After Zeus no longer needs full-time rehab, if you still want to ask, ask.”
Dominic looked at Zeus.
The traitor had fallen asleep.
“Now I have incentive to rehabilitate him faster.”
I stared.
He raised hands.
“Joke.”
“Terrible.”
“Yes.”
We laughed.
Then my phone rang.
Dr. Feld.
Athena had finally allowed a voluntary blood draw through cooperative care.
The lab found trace concentrations of a sedative associated with Ridgeway protocols still stored in her fur samples from initial intake.
More importantly, toxicology from archived Bishop samples—preserved by Lakeshore’s old vet—showed the same drug at a much higher level.
Bishop had not died from congenital heart disease.
He had died after Ridgeway administered an unauthorized sedative during remote-stimulation training.
A dog had died.
Records showed Dario ordered the demonstration continued after Bishop collapsed once earlier that day.
Calvin administered.
Dr. Harlan signed false notes.
The case changed.
Animal cruelty became felony conduct with death.
Evidence falsification.
Potential professional crimes.
I sat down.
Bishop.
I remembered carrying his body into the freezer before cremation pickup.
I remembered apologizing because I thought we missed a heart problem.
We had not.
Someone had hidden what they did.
Dominic came closer, stopped six feet away.
“Do you want me to stay?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He sat on the ground.
No touch.
No words.
Zeus woke, walked over, and lay between us.
For twenty minutes, nobody tried to fix anything.
That was the most useful thing Dominic had ever done.
The center planning gave me something else to measure besides Dominic’s case.
Dr. Feld and I spent evenings arguing over intake thresholds, quarantine space, and whether a behavior center should ever promise “rehabilitation” in its name.
“Some dogs won’t become adoptable,” she said.
“I know.”
“Then the name can sound like a guarantee.”
She was right.
We settled on Lakeshore Behavior & Recovery Center because recovery could mean less fear, better management, or simply a life that stopped getting worse.
That principle helped me with Dominic too.
I did not need to decide whether he had become a good man.
I needed to observe what he did next.
Did he tell the truth when it cost him?
Did he accept no?
Did he stop using other people’s fear as a shortcut?
Behavior before labels.
The same rule I had used with dogs.
May you like
Not because people are dogs.
Because evidence is kinder than fantasy.
