Chapter 5 - The Night Dominic Vale Chose a Side
Dominic turned white.
Not pale.
White.
The voice came again.
“Dom.”
Nobody moved.
Matteo had been dead nine years.
I knew that.
Dominic knew that.
Everyone in the room knew that.
But grief does not listen to facts when a familiar voice comes through a door.
Dominic stepped forward.
Luca caught his arm.
“No.”
Dominic shook him off.
“That’s him.”
“It sounds like him.”
“It is him.”
My mother whispered, “Dominic, wait.”
The voice said, “You always were slow with doors.”
Dominic stopped.
Something about that sentence reached him.
A private memory.
A phrase nobody else should know.
He opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
A phone sat on the floor.
Speaker on.
Recorded audio.
Dominic stared at it.
Then the phone exploded.
Not a lethal blast.
A flash charge.
Light.
Noise.
Glass shattered.
We dropped.
Men entered downstairs.
The attack had begun.
Luca recovered first.
“Move!”
We fled through Matteo’s study.
Dominic pulled a bookshelf aside.
A hidden staircase descended into the basement.
“Your brother had a secret tunnel?” I asked while running.
“He was dramatic.”
“You say that like your family is otherwise normal.”
Even then, he almost smiled.
The tunnel ended two houses away.
We escaped.
But the message was clear.
Richard knew Matteo’s townhouse.
He knew Dominic’s memories.
He had old recordings.
He could reach anywhere.
By morning, Dominic moved us to the last place Richard would expect.
A federal safe office.
That surprised me.
“You have friends in the government?”
“No.”
“Then why are we here?”
“I have one person who owes Matteo.”
Special Agent Rachel Sloan entered.
Fifty.
Gray suit.
No patience.
She looked at Dominic like she had been waiting nine years to arrest him.
“Vale.”
“Sloan.”
Then she looked at me.
“Jonathan Carter’s daughter.”
I was getting tired of being introduced that way.
“Emma.”
Rachel nodded.
“Your father saved my life.”
Apparently that was another fact nobody had mentioned.
She told us Matteo had contacted federal investigators before his death.
Only one agent believed him.
Rachel.
Jonathan supplied evidence.
Susan supplied records.
They planned a coordinated seizure.
Then Matteo died.
Jonathan died.
Files disappeared.
Rachel was reassigned.
The investigation collapsed.
“Mercer had people inside the bureau,” Rachel said.
Dominic leaned against the table.
“Do you still?”
“I don’t know.”
Comforting.
We decided to retrieve deposit box 224 quietly.
No Vale men.
No federal team.
Just Dominic, me, and Rachel.
Luca hated that.
Gabriel hated it too.
But if one of them was the traitor, neither could come.
I watched Dominic tell men he trusted with his life that he no longer trusted them.
It hurt him.
He did it anyway.
The deposit facility looked ordinary.
That made it more frightening.
I inserted the micro-key.
Box 224 opened.
Inside was a single envelope.
No hard drive.
No ledger.
Just a photograph and a note.
The photograph showed Matteo Vale and my father standing beside a warehouse.
Between them was another man.
I recognized him.
Gabriel Torres.
Dominic stared.
Rachel read the note.
DOMINIC—
IF GABRIEL IS STILL WITH YOU, ASK HIM ABOUT THE NIGHT AT PIER 14.
HE SAVED MATTEO ONCE.
THE SECOND TIME, HE WAS TOO LATE.
THE TRAITOR IS NOT GABRIEL.
—JONATHAN
Dominic exhaled.
“Then Luca.”
“No,” I said.
“What?”
“Your father—your brother—whatever happened, everyone keeps pointing at Luca because of initials and timing. It feels too obvious.”
Rachel nodded.
“Could be deliberate.”
I flipped the photograph over.
Three words.
ASK THE DRIVER.
“Who drove Matteo that night?” I asked.
Dominic went silent.
Then he whispered, “Me.”
I stared.
“You?”
“I drove him to Pier 14.”
Rachel frowned.
“Matteo’s car exploded later.”
“I dropped him at the pier. He met Gabriel. Hours later, he took another vehicle.”
“So the traitor knew his route after he left you.”
Dominic looked at the photograph.
“Someone at the pier.”
Rachel suddenly straightened.
“There’s something behind the photo.”
A thin plastic strip was taped beneath the backing.
Microfilm.
We developed it at Rachel’s office.
The master index.
Names.
Codes.
Account numbers.
And the traitor.
ANTHONY BELLAMY.
I frowned.
“Bellamy?”
Dominic stared.
“Mrs. Bellamy’s husband.”
My housekeeper.
The stern woman who had hired me.
Her husband had supposedly died ten years ago.
“What did he do?”
“He was my father’s driver.”
And Matteo’s.
Anthony Bellamy knew every route.
Every meeting.
Every secret entrance.
He died one year before Matteo.
Officially.
Rachel looked at Dominic.
“Maybe not.”
Then I remembered Mrs. Bellamy’s reaction the day she hired me.
She had studied my application.
Paused at my last name.
Carter.
Then hired me immediately.
“Mrs. Bellamy knew who I was.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“She brought you into my house.”
“Why?”
Nobody answered.
Then my phone rang.
Mrs. Bellamy.
I put it on speaker.
Her voice was calm.
“Emma, I’m sorry.”
My stomach dropped.
“For what?”
“For waiting so long.”
Dominic leaned toward the phone.
“Where are you?”
“At the mansion.”
“Leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Anthony is here.”
Dominic froze.
His supposedly dead driver.
Mrs. Bellamy continued.
“He came back tonight.”
“Is he armed?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Then a man spoke behind her.
Older.
Smooth.
“Hello, Dominic.”
Dominic’s entire body tightened.
Anthony Bellamy was alive.
He said, “You’ve spent nine years blaming Richard for a game he never invented.”
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“What do you want?”
“The index.”
“You can have me instead.”
I turned toward him.
Anthony laughed.
“You still think this is about killing Vales.”
A pause.
Then he said:
“It’s about replacing them.”
The call ended.
Dominic grabbed his coat.
Rachel blocked him.
“You go back there, you’re walking into another trap.”
“Bellamy has my staff.”
“He wants the index.”
“He won’t get it.”
“Then what are you planning?”
Dominic looked at me.
Something in his expression frightened me more than anger.
Resolution.
“I’m ending what my family started.”
He handed Rachel the master index.
Then he removed his gun.
Placed it on the table.
Luca’s knife.
His phone.
Everything.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Giving Bellamy what he expects.”
“You just said he won’t get the index.”
“He won’t.”
“Then what are you giving him?”
Dominic looked at me for a long moment.
“Me.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“No.”
“He needs a Vale alive if he wants control.”
“And you’re just volunteering?”
“It gets everyone else out.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know men like him.”
“You are a man like him.”
The room went silent.
Dominic did not look offended.
He looked tired.
“That’s exactly why I know.”
Then he walked toward the door.
I grabbed his hand.
He stopped.
I did not know what I planned to say.
Something intelligent.
Something useful.
Instead:
“You laughed today.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“You laughed. Twice. That seems like a stupid thing to do after nine years if you’re planning to die tonight.”
For the first time, his mask cracked.
He squeezed my hand.
“Then give me a reason to come back.”
He left.
Twenty minutes later, Rachel’s surveillance feed showed Dominic walking alone into the Vale mansion.
Anthony Bellamy appeared in the doorway.
Then the feed cut.
My phone vibrated.
One message.
From Dominic.
DO NOT COME HERE.
Then another arrived from Mrs. Bellamy’s number.
A photograph.
Dominic on his knees.
Anthony standing behind him with a gun.
And beneath it:
May you like
BRING THE INDEX BEFORE MIDNIGHT, EMMA.
OR WATCH HIM DIE.
