Chapter 3 - Whispers of Conspiracy
Upstairs in the grand master suite, the sterile smell of medical saline and antiseptic replaced the musty odor of the wine cellar.
Dr. Arthur Vance, a trusted family physician who had stitched up bullet wounds and treated mob bosses for decades, worked with quiet efficiency by the bedside. An IV drip fed fluids into Mia’s bruised veins, while a heart monitor beeped with a steady, rhythmic pulse.
Harper sat in a plush armchair near the window, wrapped in a warm wool blanket, clutching a mug of hot cocoa that Mrs. Gable, the head cook, had hurriedly prepared.
Dominic stood near the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window into the misty Hudson Valley landscape. His mind raced, connecting dots he had blindly ignored for months.
The missing financial ledgers from the shipping ports.
The sudden, unexplained leaks in security during the Jersey dock raids.
The relentless pressure Claire had exerted over the past year to have Nathan appointed as primary co-signer on all corporate asset transfers.
It had all been engineered.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Marcus slipped into the room, closing it quietly behind him.
“Boss,” Marcus murmured, walking over to Dominic. “We locked down the perimeter. No vehicles in or out. But we’ve got a situation at the east gate.”
Dominic turned. “Speak.”
“Miss Claire just tried to exit in her Range Rover. When security denied her, she threw a fit, claimed she was going to the village for bridal fittings, and tried to ram the gate.”
A cold smile touched the corner of Dominic’s mouth. Innocent people don't run.
“Where is she now?”
“In the security holding annex. Daniel has her.”
“Bring her to my study,” Dominic said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion. “And bring Nathan up from the cellar. Put them in separate rooms. I want them sweating.”
“On it.” Marcus turned and hurried out.
Dominic walked over to the bed. Mia’s eyes were open now. They were clear, though clouded with lingering terror. She tried to sit up, but Dominic gently placed a heavy, warm hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t move, Mia. You’re safe here,” Dominic said, his tone softening—a tone few people in the criminal underworld had ever heard.
“Mr. Vale...” Mia whispered, her voice rough and trembling. “I’m sorry... I didn't mean to find out. I was looking for extra linens in the west wing gallery... and I heard them talking.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Cross and Miss Claire,” Mia swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes once more. “They weren't just talking about business, Mr. Vale. They were planning the takeover of the entire syndicate accounts. They said once you signed the marriage contract next month, Claire would hold fifty percent voting power, and Nathan would liquidate the remaining offshore assets. When I walked past the open door, Mr. Cross saw me. He smiled... and then everything went dark.”
Harper scrambled out of the armchair, dropping her cocoa mug on the carpet, and ran to bury her face in the blankets beside her mother.
Dominic closed his eyes. The betrayal cut deeper than any knife wound he had ever taken. Nathan wasn't just a partner in crime; he was the man Dominic had trusted with his life, his secrets, and his safety.
May you like
“You’re never going back down there, Mia,” Dominic promised, his voice vibrating with a quiet, terrifying resolve. “Neither of you. Rest. I’m going to handle this.”
He turned on his heel, grabbed his leather jacket from the armchair, and strode out of the room, leaving a trail of absolute thunder in his wake.
