Chapter 3
The air vanished from my lungs.
He knew.
He already knew about the blood in the car. I had thought—foolishly, desperately—that I could keep Marcus satisfied, find a way to get my brother out of the city, and walk away from this mansion before the war started.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.
Dominic didn't blink. He took another sip of his drink, swallowed slowly, and set the crystal glass on the edge of the low table with a sharp, definitive *clink*.
"Rule number one of working in this house, Emma," he said, voice smooth as silk. "Never lie to the man who pays for your safety. Rule number two: never assume I don't see everything that happens beneath my roof."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen once and turned it toward me.
It was a freeze-frame from the service garage surveillance camera.
The timestamp in the corner read: **06:42:19 AM.**
In the grainy black-and-white feed, Marcus Hale had me pinned against the rear passenger door of his Mercedes. My uniform was torn at the shoulder. His right hand was wrapped around my throat, lifting me onto my tiptoes, while his left hand forced a jagged piece of scrap iron down against the back of my right foot.
You could see the terror on my face even through the pixelated video.
You could see the moment my foot slipped, the iron caught my skin, and I fell onto the floorboards.
My hands flew to my mouth. Tears stung the corners of my eyes, hot and humiliating.
"He deleted the master feed from the security room at seven-fifteen," Dominic explained quietly, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "Marcus is smart. He's been my logistics coordinator for four years. He knows how the digital loops work. What he forgot... is that I have a redundant analog server installed in the wine cellar. A server only two people in the world have the password to."
He paused, letting the silence settle over my shattered defenses.
"Now," Dominic whispered, leaning back into his chair. "I am going to ask you one question. And depending on how you answer it, Marcus Hale will either leave my property in a town car, or he will leave it in three separate garbage bags."
I shivered. A violent shudder went straight through my core.
"Why was he hurting you?" Dominic asked.
"If I tell you," I choked out, tears finally spilling down my cheeks, "he’ll kill him."
Dominic's eyebrows twitched. "Kill who?"
"Leo."
The name tore out of my chest like a confession in a church confessional.
"My brother," I sobbed, clutching my knees. "He’s nineteen, Mr. Valenti. He’s just a kid. He got in over his head with sports betting last fall. He owed sixty thousand dollars to a loan shark operating out of Cicero. Marcus found out. Marcus... he paid the debt off."
Dominic’s expression darkened. The calm facade didn't crack, but the room suddenly felt ten degrees colder. "Marcus doesn't have sixty thousand dollars of disposable cash. Not on the salary I pay him."
"He didn't pay it with his money," I whispered. "He paid it with a promise. He told the loan shark he’d deliver something from your house. And then he came to me."
"What did he want you to do, Emma?"
"He wanted your ledger."
Dominic didn't flinch.
The ledger was legend. It wasn't a digital file. It wasn't kept on a flash drive. It was a black leather-bound book that Dominic’s father had started thirty years ago, containing the real names of every dirty judge, shipping inspector, and police captain on the Valenti payroll across four Midwestern states.
If that book reached federal prosecutors, Dominic Valenti would spend the rest of his natural life inside ADX Florence. If it reached the Moretti family, every Valenti operation in Illinois would be burned to the ground by sunrise.
"He told me where you kept the duplicate key," I said, my voice barely audible above the hum of the lamps. "He told me to slip into your private study during the dinner party tonight. He said if I brought him the ledger before dessert was served, he would hand over the deed to my brother's debt and give Leo a bus ticket out of the state."
Dominic stared at me. His eyes were dark, impenetrable pools of black obsidian.
"And did you?" he asked softly. "Did you go into my study?"
"No!" I cried, shaking my head violently. "I couldn't do it! That's why he attacked me this morning! I met him in the garage to tell him I was out. I told him I’d go to the police, I’d figure out another way to save Leo, but I wouldn't betray this house. That's when... that's when he grabbed the tire iron from his trunk."
I swallowed back a sob, my chest heaving.
"He told me if the ledger wasn't in his briefcase by ten o'clock tonight, his associates in Cicero would put a bullet in Leo’s head and drop him in the quarry. He told me to put on my uniform, smile, serve the wine, and do my job."
I looked down at my bandaged foot, feeling utterly broken, utterly worthless.
"I tried to walk normal," I whispered. "I swear to God, Mr. Valenti, I tried. I stuffed the cloth in my shoe. I wanted to serve the dinner, sneak out the service door, and run to Cicero myself. I didn't want you to see."
Dominic was silent for a very long time.
He stood up from the armchair.
He didn't touch me. He didn't offer a platitude. Instead, he walked over to the side table, picked up the bottle of painkillers Dr. Russo had left, and slid it into his pocket.
Then he looked at his watch.
"Nine-forty," Dominic said.
"Mr. Valenti—"
"You have twenty minutes until Marcus expects his ledger."
I stared at him, terror freezing the blood in my veins. "What are you going to do?"
Dominic reached out. For the first time, his fingers brushed against the side of my face. His touch was unexpectedly warm, rough with calluses, yet shockingly gentle. He wiped a tear from my cheekbone with his thumb.
May you like
"I’m going to give Marcus Hale exactly what he asked for," Dominic said softly. "And then I’m going to introduce him to what happens when you touch someone under my protection."
***
