Chapter 14 - The Atlantic City KnifeAtlantic City had been a trap dressed as business.
Dominic saw that now.
The meeting that ended early. The directors who suddenly surrendered. The storm that delayed his usual driver. The assistant who insisted three times that he stay the night. Every inconvenience had been arranged to move him like a piece on a board.
Except Harper changed the game.
A four-year-old girl in a yellow nightgown had done what killers, lawyers, rivals, and federal agents never managed.
She had made Dominic stop.
Now he stood in the library with Claire’s accusation poisoning the room.
“Who called Nathan?” Dominic asked.
No one answered.
Marcus looked offended. Daniel looked murderous. The assistant, Eric Sloan, stood near the bookshelves with a tablet clutched to his chest and sweat at his temples.
Dominic noticed the sweat.
Eric had worked for him for six years. Efficient. Polished. Invisible when needed. He scheduled meetings, screened calls, remembered birthdays Dominic forgot, and sent flowers under Dominic’s name when decency required gestures Dominic did not know how to make.
Flowers.
Dominic looked at Lily.
“The flowers to Rhinebeck,” he said.
Eric’s face went white.
Lily understood immediately.
“You sent them?”
Eric swallowed. “Sir, I arrange hundreds of deliveries.”
Dominic crossed the room.
“On Elena’s birthday?”
Eric’s eyes darted to Nathan.
There.
The smallest glance.
The loudest confession.
Dominic did not touch him.
He did not need to.
Daniel seized Eric by the arms and slammed him into the wall.
Eric gasped. “I didn’t know what it meant.”
Nathan laughed softly.
Dominic looked at him. “You recruited my assistant.”
“I trained him,” Nathan said. “There’s a difference.”
Eric struggled. “He said it was for your protection. He said certain information would break you. He said your father—”
“My father is dead,” Dominic said.
Nathan smiled. “And still employing half your household.”
Dominic stepped closer to Eric.
“Atlantic City.”
Eric’s eyes filled with panic.
“I called Nathan when your meeting collapsed.”
“Why?”
“He told me to keep you away until Saturday. When you said you were driving back, I called him.”
Mia’s face tightened.
Saturday.
By then she would have been dead.
Harper’s story would have softened into confusion.
Claire would have cried over the tragedy of a maid who abandoned her child and met a terrible fate somewhere else.
Dominic looked toward Mia.
Her hand was over Harper’s ears, but her eyes were on him.
Eric began crying.
“I didn’t know about her. I swear. I thought it was documents. I thought Nathan was managing a family matter.”
Lily’s voice cut through.
“People keep saying family like it explains crimes.”
Victoria looked at her, pained.
Lily did not look back.
Dominic turned to Daniel.
“Separate him.”
Eric sobbed. “Please, sir.”
Dominic leaned close.
“You helped bury a woman alive by keeping me away from my own house.”
Eric broke.
Daniel dragged him out.
Claire watched with bitter satisfaction.
“Feel better?” she asked. “One rat found. How many more before breakfast?”
Dominic did not answer.
Because she was right.
That was the problem with rot. It never stayed where you found it.
By noon, the estate staff had been divided into three groups: loyal, compromised, and unknown. The unknown group was the largest. Dominic hated that. He hated more that Mia tried to stand and help sort them.
“You should be resting,” he said.
Mia sat at the long library table with a list of names, Harper asleep against her side.
“So should you.”
“I’m not injured.”
“You’re bleeding through your eyebrow.”
Dominic touched the cut as though just remembering it.
Mia looked back at the list.
“Mrs. Alvarez in laundry is loyal. Her nephew’s medical bills were paid from your account. She thinks you did it.”
“I did.”
“She doesn’t know that. She thinks kindness done quietly means loyalty deserved loudly.”
Dominic studied her.
“You notice everything.”
“I’m staff.”
The word landed differently now.
Dominic pulled out the chair across from her.
“I failed you.”
Mia’s pen stopped.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You were gone.”
“It was my house.”
She looked at him then, tired beyond politeness.
“Powerful men love saying that after the damage is done.”
Dominic accepted the blow.
Mia’s voice softened, but not much.
“I don’t need guilt from you, Mr. Vale. I need my daughter safe. I need Nathan unable to reach us. And I need to know why Claire hated me enough to leave Harper alone for three days.”
Dominic looked toward the east sitting room where Claire was held.
“Because you were close to the truth.”
“No.” Mia shook her head. “Before that.”
Dominic frowned.
Mia glanced at Harper, then lowered her voice.
“Claire watched me. Long before the wine cellar. She hated when Harper ran through the halls. Hated when you remembered Harper’s birthday. Hated when I corrected staff without asking permission. She once told me women like me were dangerous because we made men feel noble.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
Mia looked away.
“I think she wanted me gone before I found anything.”
Dominic stood.
“Then we ask.”
In the east sitting room, Claire sat by the window with bruised wrists and a ruined future.
Dominic entered alone.
She smiled without turning.
“Come to apologize?”
“No.”
“Come to ask why I hated the maid?”
Dominic said nothing.
Claire laughed softly.
“You always were slow with women.”
He closed the door.
Claire looked at him then.
Her eyes were red, but dry.
“I hated Mia because she had what I wanted.”
“My money?”
“No.”
“My name?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Claire’s smile trembled.
“She could stand in your house without begging it to love her.”
For the first time all day, Dominic had no answer.
Claire looked out the window.
“And because Nathan told me the truth before he told you.”
Dominic went still.
Claire whispered, “He said your daughter was alive. He said if I helped him secure the estate, he would give me the one thing no Vale wife ever had.”
“What?”
Claire turned back.
“An heir.”
Dominic stared at her.
May you like
Claire’s hand moved to her stomach.
And the room changed.
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