Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Should Have Been Dead
Dominic watched the eight-second clip twenty-three times.
I counted.
Not because I wanted to.
Because no one knew what to say.
Noah sat beside me on a leather sofa in Dominic’s study, clutching the silver locket.
Victor had been moved to another room.
Security had locked the entire estate down.
Every employee was being questioned.
And the most feared man in Chicago was sitting behind his desk staring at a grainy image of his dead wife.
“Elena died in a car explosion,” Dominic finally said.
I looked at him.
“You saw her?”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
“You didn’t see her body.”
“I saw what was left of the vehicle.”
“Did anyone identify her?”
“My people did.”
“Which people?”
His gaze rose.
He understood where I was going.
“Marco.”
The room became quiet.
Marco was his head of security.
The man Dominic had trusted to lock the estate.
Dominic called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Dominic stood.
“He was downstairs five minutes ago.”
A guard at the door spoke.
“Sir, Marco left the main floor after reporting the footage.”
“Where?”
“We thought you sent him.”
Dominic’s expression turned lethal.
“I did not.”
He moved toward the door.
I stood too.
“Stay with Noah.”
“Gladly.”
He stopped.
For some reason, he seemed surprised that I had obeyed him.
Then he left with two guards.
Noah climbed down.
He went toward Dominic’s desk.
“Noah?”
He opened the lowest drawer.
Inside was a stack of photographs.
He pulled one out.
A woman holding a baby.
Elena.
I recognized the face immediately.
The woman from the video.
Noah touched the picture.
“Mommy.”
My chest tightened.
“You remember her?”
He shook his head.
“Lady says.”
“The lady told you this was Mommy?”
Nod.
“Does she look like this?”
Another nod.
So Noah might not recognize Elena personally.
Someone could be pretending.
That explanation was less supernatural.
Not less frightening.
“Does she talk to you?”
“Yes.”
“What does she say?”
Noah looked toward the door.
“Daddy bad.”
There it was again.
“What else?”
“Daddy made Mommy go.”
My stomach dropped.
“Go where?”
He pointed downward.
“Downstairs?”
“No.”
He pointed lower.
“Under?”
He nodded.
I remembered the access hatch beneath the nursery.
Was there more under the house?
“Noah, does the lady take you downstairs?”
His eyes filled.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She can’t.”
“Why?”
His voice became a whisper.
“Door locked.”
Before I could ask more, gunfire cracked somewhere outside.
Not close.
But unmistakable.
Noah screamed.
He dove beneath the desk.
I followed.
“Hey. Hey. Look at me.”
He covered his ears.
I crawled beside him.
“You’re okay.”
“No!”
“You’re with me.”
“Daddy!”
“He’s coming back.”
Noah cried harder.
I wrapped my arms around him.
This time he didn’t resist at all.
Footsteps thundered.
The study door opened.
I grabbed the heaviest object within reach.
A brass lamp.
“Clara!”
Dominic.
I nearly collapsed.
He entered with a guard.
Blood darkened his sleeve.
Not much.
A graze.
Noah crawled out.
“Daddy!”
Dominic froze.
The boy ran to him.
For perhaps the first time in a very long time, Noah threw himself into his father’s arms.
Dominic dropped to his knees.
He held his son.
Not elegantly.
Not carefully.
Desperately.
His eyes closed.
Noah buried his face against his neck.
Watching them changed something in me.
Dominic might be dangerous.
But he loved that child.
“Marco?” I asked.
Dominic looked at me.
“Gone.”
“Did he shoot at you?”
“One of his men did.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Marco knew we were looking.”
He stood with Noah in his arms.
“And it means he has help.”
Victor was brought back.
Dominic placed Noah beside me.
Then crossed the room.
“You identified Elena.”
Victor frowned.
“What?”
“After the crash.”
“I wasn’t there.”
Dominic went still.
“You told me Marco handled identification.”
“I told you Marco called me afterward.”
“No.”
Victor shook his head.
“I never saw her body.”
Dominic stared at him.
“So no one in the family did.”
Victor’s expression changed.
“No.”
Dominic looked at the video again.
“She could be alive.”
“Or someone wants you to think she is.”
I hated Victor for saying it.
But he was right.
Dominic looked at Noah.
“Either way, someone has been entering his room.”
Victor’s face tightened.
“How?”
“The cameras were disabled.”
“By Marco?”
“Probably.”
I looked between them.
“What was Marco’s connection to Elena?”
Both men turned.
Dominic answered.
“He was assigned to protect her.”
That was it.
The missing piece.
A trusted guard.
A frightened wife.
A suspicious crash.
Deleted footage.
Night visits.
“Was he with her the day she died?”
“Yes.”
Dominic’s voice cracked slightly.
“He was driving the second vehicle.”
Victor whispered a curse.
Dominic looked sick.
I understood.
The man who confirmed Elena’s death had been the man closest to the crash.
“Why would Marco fake her death?” I asked.
Dominic stared at the floor.
Victor answered.
“Leverage.”
“Against whom?”
“Dominic.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
Victor continued.
“Powerful men collect enemies. The easiest way to control a father is through his family.”
“Then why not kidnap Noah?”
“Maybe that was the plan.”
I looked at Noah.
“Maybe it still is.”
Dominic’s head snapped toward me.
Noah tugged my hand.
“Lady nice.”
We all looked at him.
“What?” I asked.
“Lady nice.”
“The woman who visits you?”
Nod.
“She scares you?”
He shook his head.
“Then who are you afraid of?”
Noah pointed toward Dominic.
My heart sank.
Dominic looked destroyed.
But Noah wasn’t finished.
He walked to his father.
Then pointed behind him.
Not at Dominic.
At the wall.
A painting hung there.
A large family portrait.
Dominic.
Elena.
Baby Noah.
And another man at the edge of the frame.
Younger.
Dark hair.
Smiling.
Victor followed Noah’s finger.
His face changed.
“Adrian.”
Dominic turned.
“My brother.”
I stared at him.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared after Elena died.”
Victor said, “Everyone assumed he fled.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“He stole from the organization.”
“Did he?”
Victor’s tone sharpened.
Dominic looked at him.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting Marco told us that too.”
Silence.
Dominic slowly turned back to the portrait.
His brother.
His dead wife.
His missing security chief.
All connected through the same man.
Noah touched Adrian’s face in the painting.
“Bad man.”
Dominic crouched.
“Who told you that?”
“Lady.”
I felt cold.
“Did the lady say where he is?”
Noah nodded.
Dominic and I exchanged a look.
“Where?”
The little boy pointed downward again.
“Under house.”
Dominic stared.
“That’s impossible.”
Victor spoke quietly.
“No, it isn’t.”
Everyone turned toward him.
He looked toward the bookshelf behind Dominic’s desk.
“When your father built this mansion, he installed an old emergency passage.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
Victor crossed to the shelves.
He pulled one book.
Nothing.
Then another.
A hidden mechanism clicked.
Part of the bookcase shifted.
Behind it was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
Noah whimpered.
I took his hand.
Dominic reached for a flashlight.
Victor stopped him.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Your father didn’t build that passage to escape.”
Dominic stared.
“Then why?”
Victor looked at Noah.
“To hide people.”
A sound came from below.
Metal scraping.
Then a man’s voice echoed up the stairs.
Weak.
Hoarse.
“Dominic?”
Dominic’s face emptied.
The voice came again.
May you like
“Brother?”
Adrian Vale had just spoken from beneath the house.
