Chapter 2 - Unraveling the Web
Dr. Evans was packing his bag when Dominic entered his master bedroom. The room, usually sterile and dark, felt different now. On the king-sized bed, Mia lay propped up against a mountain of silk pillows. She looked incredibly small beneath the heavy duvet. Her face had been washed, revealing the deep, dark bruises along her jawline.
Harper was asleep beside her, curled into a tight ball, her little hand still clutching her mother’s sleeve even in her exhaustion.
"How is she?" Dominic asked, stopping at the foot of the bed.
"Dehydrated, severely bruised, and suffering from mild hypothermia," Dr. Evans said quietly, keeping his voice down so as not to wake the child. "But she’s strong. No broken bones, thank God. The psychological trauma is another story. She was kept in pitch blackness for seventy-two hours, Dominic. Whoever did this wanted her broken."
"Thank you, David. Go wash up. Daniel will show you out."
Once the door closed, Dominic pulled up a heavy leather armchair and sat down beside the bed. Mia’s eyes, normally a bright, warm amber, were clouded with exhaustion and fear. She tried to sit up further, but Dominic raised a hand to stop her.
"Rest, Mia. You don't have to prove anything to me."
"I... I have to tell you," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, a painful rasp. "Before they find out I'm awake."
"Who is 'they'?" Dominic asked, though he already knew the answer.
Mia looked down at Harper's sleeping face, her eyes welling with tears. "It was Miss Claire. And Mr. Cross. I didn't mean to spy, Dominic. I swear to you. I was checking the linens in the west wing guests' quarters on Tuesday night. The door to the study was ajar. I heard them."
"What did they say?"
"They were talking about a shipment," Mia said, her voice trembling. "A shipment coming through the docks on Friday. Nathan said the Port Authority had been paid off, but that you had changed the routing codes. Claire... she laughed. She said you were too smart for your own good, but that it wouldn't matter once the 'accident' happened."
Dominic’s heart went cold. "An accident."
"They were planning to poison your transition medication," Mia whispered, referring to the daily cardiac suppressants Dominic took after his heart surgery the previous year. "They wanted it to look like a stroke. And then, Nathan was going to present a forged will naming him as the temporary head of the Vale syndicate until Claire could 'recover' from her grief. They were going to split the assets and sell your territory to the Moroni family."
Dominic stared at her. The sheer scale of the betrayal was staggering. Nathan hadn't just wanted to steal from him; he wanted to erase him entirely, using his own fiancée as the Trojan horse.
"Why did they lock you up?" Dominic asked.
"I tried to back away, but my shoe squeaked on the hardwood," Mia said, a tear escaping and running down her bruised cheek. "Nathan caught me. He dragged me into the room. Claire wanted to kill me right there. She said a maid’s disappearance wouldn't raise any alarms. But Nathan... he said killing me in the house would leave forensic evidence. He said to lock me in the old wine cellar. He was going to wait until you left for Atlantic City, then move me to a secondary location to dispose of me."
She looked up at Dominic, her eyes filled with desperate plea. "I didn't care about myself, Dominic. But Harper... they told me if I made a sound, if I tried to scream when the guards walked by, they would kill Harper. I had to stay quiet. I had to listen to the silence for three days, wondering if my baby was safe."
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Dominic reached out. For the first time in his adult life, he took his maid’s hand. Her fingers were cold, but he held them tightly.
"You saved my life, Mia," Dominic said, his voice thick with an emotion he hadn't felt in decades. "And I promise you, on my mother's grave, they will never touch you or Harper again."
