Chapter 9 - Dominic’s Real Reason
A shot cracked through the darkness.
Beatrice heard Dominic shout her name.
Then someone hit the floor.
Emergency lighting returned.
Gabriel lay bleeding from the shoulder.
Arthur stood frozen.
Liam’s gun smoked.
He had shot his father.
Federal agents restrained Gabriel.
Victoria was freed.
Nobody had died.
For the first time that night, survival felt possible.
But the vault had created a new problem.
The files named hundreds of people.
Some living.
Some dead.
Some innocent intermediaries.
Some powerful enough to destroy evidence if warned.
Federal authorities wanted immediate custody.
Beatrice refused.
“You can have copies.”
The lead agent stared at her.
“This is evidence.”
“It is also corporate data belonging to companies I legally control.”
Dominic watched her with unmistakable approval.
“We preserve everything,” Beatrice continued. “Independent counsel. Multiple encrypted copies. Then investigators get what they need.”
Arthur looked surprised.
“Who taught you this?”
“You did.”
He blinked.
“You spent my entire childhood telling me never to sign something I hadn't read.”
For the first time, Arthur smiled.
It vanished quickly.
There was still too much damage between them.
Gabriel was taken away.
Liam surrendered voluntarily.
Chloe insisted on going with him to provide a statement.
Before leaving, she approached Beatrice.
“I don't expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
Chloe winced.
Beatrice continued.
“But I don't want revenge either.”
“What do you want?”
“A sister who doesn't need me to be smaller so she can feel bigger.”
Chloe cried.
“I don't know how to be that yet.”
“Learn.”
Chloe nodded.
“I will.”
At sunrise, Beatrice and Dominic stood alone on the tower roof.
Manhattan stretched beneath them.
“You never answered me,” she said.
“What?”
“Why you really took my hand.”
“I told you.”
“No. You told me why you made the announcement.”
Dominic looked away.
“You want the embarrassing answer?”
“Very much.”
“I had noticed you before.”
She laughed.
“No, you hadn't.”
“At three events.”
“Which?”
“The hospital fundraiser. Davenport Foundation dinner. And Chloe’s campaign benefit.”
“You were engaged to Chloe.”
“Not then.”
Beatrice folded her arms.
“What did you notice?”
“You were always fixing something.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“At the hospital, a waiter dropped a tray. Everyone stepped around him. You helped him pick it up.”
She remembered.
“At the foundation dinner, an elderly donor forgot her husband had died and kept asking where he was. You sat with her for forty minutes.”
Beatrice's smile faded.
“And the campaign benefit?”
“A reporter mocked your dress after you walked away.”
Her expression hardened.
“I remember.”
“You didn't hear what happened afterward.”
“What happened?”
“He apologized publicly the next morning.”
Beatrice stared.
“Did you threaten him?”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“I explained that cruelty toward women wasn't a sustainable professional brand.”
She laughed.
“You threatened his career.”
“I offered strategic advice.”
“You are unbelievable.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“When Chloe threw the wine, I saw you apologize to the waiter.”
Beatrice blinked.
“He looked scared.”
“You were the person humiliated, and you were worried about him.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“That was why.”
“Why what?”
“Why I couldn't stand there anymore.”
Her breath caught.
No inheritance.
No shares.
No family connection.
He had taken her hand because of something he had seen in her.
“Then you discovered I might be your cousin.”
“That was an unfortunate ten minutes.”
She laughed.
He did too.
Then silence settled.
Not uncomfortable.
Different.
Dominic looked at her.
“The fake engagement is over.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
She tried not to show disappointment.
He continued.
“Because if I ask again, I don't want it to be fake.”
Beatrice stared.
“You barely know me.”
“I know.”
“We've had one catastrophically long night.”
“I know.”
“Your uncle murdered my father.”
“Technically great-uncle through a hidden marriage situation that I am still processing.”
She laughed despite herself.
Dominic smiled.
“I am not proposing.”
“Excellent.”
“I'm asking whether I can take you to dinner.”
She looked at him.
No ballroom.
No cameras.
No strategy.
“Dinner?”
“Dinner.”
“Yes.”
Dominic’s smile was small.
Real.
Then his phone rang.
Marco.
The smile disappeared.
“What?”
He listened.
Beatrice watched his face change.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Seal the building.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“Gabriel never reached federal custody.”
“What?”
“The transport was intercepted.”
Her stomach dropped.
“By whom?”
Dominic looked toward the rooftop door.
“It wasn't an external attack.”
“What does that mean?”
“Someone inside the federal team released him.”
The rooftop door opened.
Arthur appeared.
He held Daniel Hayes’s old personnel file.
His face was white.
“We have a bigger problem.”
Beatrice took the file.
Inside was her father’s photograph.
Beneath it was the name of his supervising federal agent.
Beatrice read it.
Then read it again.
The name belonged to someone who had been standing beside them all night.
May you like
She slowly looked toward the stairwell.
“Marco?”
