Chapter 8 - When Vincent Threatened Them From Prison, Iris and Dominic Refused to Let Fear Become the Center of Their FutureIris read the letter.
Then read it again.
Her first reaction was fear.
Her second was exhaustion.
Not this again.
Not another year organized around Vincent Falcone’s rage.
Dominic watched her carefully.
What do you want to do?
That question mattered.
Not Here’s what I’m doing.
Not Don't worry.
What do you want?
Iris placed the letter on the table.
Report it.
Already did.
Good.
Anything else?
She thought.
Nothing.
Dominic blinked.
Nothing?
I'm tired of letting that man schedule our emotions.
Dominic almost smiled.
That sounds like something Dr. Morris would say.
She's smarter than you.
Debatable.
Not remotely.
The threat was documented.
Prison officials investigated.
Vincent lost communication privileges temporarily.
His eventual release remained years away.
Dominic and Iris made practical safety plans.
Then they returned to living.
That decision became important.
Fear wanted rituals.
Checking windows.
Scanning cars.
Reading every stranger’s face.
Iris knew how easily vigilance became a second prison.
So she set rules.
Be aware.
Report anything real.
Do not invent danger when none existed.
Dominic struggled more.
He had spent decades surviving by assuming the worst.
One night Iris caught him checking the street from her window for the fourth time.
She signed:
Come here.
He did.
What do you see?
Cars.
Anything suspicious?
No.
Then sit.
He sat.
She handed him tea.
This feels irresponsible.
Drinking tea?
Not watching.
Iris understood.
You spent fifteen years believing safety came from seeing danger first.
He nodded.
Maybe now safety can also mean trusting the systems you helped build.
Dominic grimaced.
That sounds even more like Dr. Morris.
Again: smarter than you.
He drank his tea.
Winter became spring.
Dominic’s nonprofit role expanded.
He built partnerships with automotive shops willing to hire deaf and hard-of-hearing apprentices.
Eli became one of the mentors.
That amused everyone.
The boy Iris had spent years protecting now helped teenagers navigate the same fears.
One afternoon Dominic watched Eli explain a diagnostic system to a seventeen-year-old student named Marcus.
The boy’s face changed when he realized someone like him was doing the job he wanted.
Dominic understood something.
Power was not always the ability to make someone afraid.
Sometimes it was the ability to make someone imagine a future.
The realization hurt.
Because he understood how much of his life he had wasted learning the wrong definition.
That evening he told Iris.
She listened.
Then signed:
You didn't waste all of it.
He looked skeptical.
You survived it.
She continued.
Then you used what you learned to choose differently.
Dominic looked down.
There are people who don't get second chances.
I know.
Some because of people like me.
I know.
How do I live with that?
Iris thought.
By not turning guilt into another form of selfishness.
He looked up.
She continued.
If guilt makes you spend the rest of your life staring at yourself, it's still about you.
Dominic sat very still.
So what do I do?
Something useful.
He laughed softly.
Your philosophy is brutal.
Efficient.
They became engaged without a proposal.
At least, that was how Iris described it.
Dominic disagreed.
It happened on a Sunday morning.
They were eating pancakes.
Dominic burned his.
Iris stole one of his surviving pieces.
He signed:
We should get married.
She chewed.
Is that a proposal?
Dominic looked suddenly alarmed.
Possibly.
You look terrified.
I have faced federal prosecutors with less fear.
She laughed.
Then:
Why?
Why marriage?
She nodded.
Dominic thought carefully.
Because I don't need marriage to keep you.
Good answer.
Continue.
Because you don't need it to save me.
Better.
Continue.
He reached across the table.
Because ordinary mornings with you are the first future I have ever wanted more than power.
Iris stopped smiling.
Her eyes filled.
Dominic panicked.
Was that wrong?
She shook her head.
No.
Then:
Ask properly.
He stood.
She immediately signed:
Don't kneel.
He sat again.
Confusing.
She laughed through tears.
Dominic took her hand.
Iris Calloway, will you marry me?
She made him wait six seconds.
He later claimed it was six minutes.
Then she signed:
Yes.
Eli’s reaction was predictable.
Finally.
Gus’s was worse.
“I already bought a suit.”
“You own suits,” Iris said.
“Not wedding suits.”
Dr. Morris hugged Dominic.
Theo sent champagne.
Margaret offered The Amber Fork for the reception.
Iris refused.
Too expensive.
Margaret said the owner owed her.
Iris still refused.
They planned something smaller.
Community center.
Friends.
Food.
No spectacle.
No newspapers.
No Falcone dynasty.
Just a wedding.
But three weeks before the date, Iris received a phone call.
Her father was in the hospital.
The father she had barely spoken to in six years.
Liver failure.
Complications.
Possibly days.
Iris sat on the kitchen floor after the call.
Dominic found her there.
He didn’t ask whether she wanted him to fix it.
He sat beside her.
For nearly ten minutes neither moved.
Then Iris signed:
I hate him.
Dominic nodded.
And I love him.
Another nod.
I don't know how to do both.
Dominic took her hand.
Maybe you don't have to choose.
That night Iris went to the hospital.
May you like
Dominic waited outside the room.
Because some doors love did not give him permission to enter.
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