Chapter 7 - The Trap at Four O'Clock
At 3:58 PM, a sleek black Mercedes sedan pulled up to the main entrance of the Vale estate.
Julian Vance stepped out, carrying a thin leather briefcase. He adjusted his silk tie, smoothed his blonde hair, and walked into the foyer with the confident stride of a man who believed he was still the smartest person in the room.
The foyer was empty. No security guards. No housekeepers.
"Dominic?" Julian called out, his voice echoing off the black marble walls. "Your secretary said there was an emergency regarding the Swiss accounts."
Silence answered him.
Julian stepped further into the hall, his leather soles clicking sharply against the stone. "Dominic?"
"In the library, Julian," Dominic’s voice called out from the dark corridor.
Julian smiled to himself, holding his briefcase tightly, and walked toward the heavy oak doors of the library. He pushed them open and stepped inside.
The library was illuminated only by the fire crackling in the hearth.
Dominic was sitting behind his walnut desk, a single glass of Scotch in his hand.
Standing on the rug in front of the desk was Viktor, along with four heavy-set men in black tactical gear, their arms crossed over their chests, their expressions unreadable.
Sitting on the low coffee table between the armchairs were three black, encrypted laptops—the exact laptops Hannah had seen in the east wing study the night before.
Julian’s smile instantly vanished. He took a half-step back toward the door.
The heavy oak doors behind him swung shut with a loud, absolute THUD.
"Sit down, Julian," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
Julian swallowed hard, his posture stiffening as he tried to regain his composure. "Dominic... what is this? Why do you have my private work laptops?"
"Your private work laptops?" Dominic repeated, setting his Scotch glass down on the desk with a soft click. "Interesting. Because when my IT specialists bypassed the encryption twenty minutes ago, they found six hundred million dollars worth of Vale Enterprise assets transferred to a shell company in the Cayman Islands registered under your mother’s maiden name."
Julian’s face went completely pale. "Dominic... listen to me. That was a hedge structure. I was protecting the assets from the federal inquiry—"
"And Elena?" Dominic interrupted softly.
The room felt as if all the oxygen had been instantly sucked out of it.
Julian froze. "What?"
"Elena’s crash," Dominic said, standing up from his chair. He walked slowly around the desk, his massive frame towering over the smaller man. "The toxicology report that vanished from the county coroner's office. The cut brake lines that were written off as road debris damage."
"That was an accident!" Julian squeaked, his voice pitching high in panic. "The police report—"
"The police report you paid eighty thousand dollars to alter," Dominic said, stopping three inches from Julian’s face. "I trusted you, Julian. You were my wife’s cousin. I gave you a seat at my table. I let you into my home."
"I did it for the company!" Julian screamed, abandoning all pretense of innocence as tears of terror spilled down his cheeks. "You were weak, Dominic! After Elena died, you became obsessed with those stupid boys! You stopped running the business! Someone had to take control!"
"You tried to murder my wife," Dominic said, his voice dropping into an octave so deep it rattled the glass panes in the bookcases. "You stole from my children. And then... you sent a man to threaten a seven-year-old girl in Queens."
Julian’s eyes widened in horror. "The nanny... she told you."
"She is twice the man you will ever be," Dominic said. He looked over Julian’s shoulder at Viktor. "Take him to the basement facility. Transfer every dollar back to the family trust. And then... make sure he never sees the sun again."
"No! Dominic, please!" Julian shrieked as Viktor and two tactical guards grabbed his arms, lifting him completely off his feet. "Dominic! We're family! You can't do this! DOMINIC!"
His screams faded down the dark stone corridor as the basement doors slammed shut.
Dominic stood alone in the library, staring at the burning logs in the fireplace. His hands were clutched into tight fists at his sides, his breath coming in heavy, ragged chest-heaves.
The rage that had sustained him for six months was gone, replaced by a massive, hollow ache. Elena hadn't died because of a tragic twist of fate. She had been murdered by someone he had trusted.
A soft knock came at the library door.
Dominic didn't answer.
The door swung open anyway.
Hannah stepped inside, holding a small tray with a fresh cup of dark coffee. She didn't look at the laptops on the table or the scuff marks on the rug where Julian had been dragged away.
She walked straight to his desk, set the tray down, and stood beside him.
"It’s over," she said softly.
Dominic looked at her, his storm-gray eyes filled with a raw, agonizing vulnerability that no one in the world had ever been allowed to see.
"She’s gone, Hannah," Dominic whispered, his voice breaking. "Elena... she didn't just die. He took her from me."
Hannah didn't offer empty platitudes. She didn't tell him everything happened for a reason.
She reached out, wrapped her fingers around his large, trembling hand, and squeezed tight.
May you like
"I know," Hannah whispered. "I know how much it hurts to have someone taken from you. But you are still here, Dominic. And your boys are upstairs... waiting for their father."
Dominic looked down at their joined hands, then up into her warm, blue eyes. Slowly, he turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with hers, holding on to her as if she were the only solid thing in a world made of smoke and shadows.
