Chapter 4 - The Last Supper
The dining room of the Vale estate was a masterpiece of old-world opulence. A massive mahogany table stretched down the center of the room, lit by a crystal chandelier that cast long, dancing shadows across the wood.
At the head of the table sat Dominic. To his right was Claire, dazzling in a emerald-green dress. To his left was Nathan, who had been released from his "house arrest" for the dinner, his expression a mask of grim determination. Six of Dominic’s top captains sat around the table, the air thick with unspoken tension.
"A toast," Dominic said, raising his glass. The room fell silent instantly. "To loyalty. A rare commodity in our line of work. A commodity that, once lost, can never be bought back."
They all drank. Dominic watched Claire take a deep sip. He watched Nathan do the same.
"You look tense, Nathan," Dominic remarked, setting his glass down with a soft click.
"I don't like being accused, Dom," Nathan said, his voice tight. "Even if it was for my own protection. I’ve given my life to this family."
"You have," Dominic agreed. He signaled to Marcus, who was standing by the door. "Bring in the first course."
The kitchen doors opened, but instead of servers carrying silver platters, two guards marched in. Between them, they dragged a man. It was Victor, the head of the port security at the docks. His face was bloody, his shirt torn. He was trembling violently.
Claire’s fork clattered against her plate. Nathan’s posture went rigid.
"Victor here had a very interesting story to tell," Dominic said, leaning back in his chair. "He told me that someone paid him half a million dollars to alter the shipping manifests for Friday. He also told me that this same person wanted to know the exact chemical composition of my daily medication."
Dominic looked at Claire. "Do you know what he said when I asked him who paid him, Claire?"
"D-Dominic, please," Claire stammered, her face turning pale. "Why are you doing this here? This is a family dinner—"
"He said it was a woman," Dominic interrupted, his voice dropping all warmth. "A woman with a very expensive taste in perfume. Chanel No. 5, to be exact. The same perfume you’re wearing tonight."
"This is ridiculous!" Nathan roared, standing up and reaching for his waist.
But before his hand could touch his holster, Daniel’s gun was pressed against the back of Nathan’s skull. All six captains at the table drew their weapons, pointing them directly at Nathan and Claire.
"Sit down, Nathan," Dominic said.
Nathan slowly sank back into his chair, his eyes darting toward the windows. "Dom, you're making a mistake. You have no proof."
"I don't need proof for a trial, Nathan. This isn't a courtroom," Dominic said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, digital recorder. He pressed play.
“They were planning to poison your transition medication... They wanted it to look like a stroke. And then, Nathan was going to present a forged will...”
Mia’s voice, clear and trembling, filled the dining room.
Claire fell back in her chair, her face devoid of color. "She... she was supposed to be..."
"Dead?" Dominic finished the sentence for her. "She would have been, if her daughter hadn't stopped me on the stairs. You forgot about the child, Claire. You forgot that a mother’s love is louder than any lock you can buy."
Dominic stood up. The sheer weight of his presence seemed to suffocate the room.
"Seventeen years, Nathan," Dominic said, looking down at his oldest friend. "I would have given you half of everything I owned if you had asked. But you wanted it all. And you were willing to kill me, and a mother who did nothing but clean your mess, to get it."
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"Dom, please," Nathan whispered, the bravado finally cracking, revealing the terrified coward underneath. "We’re brothers."
"Brothers don't build graves under each other's homes," Dominic said. He turned his back on them. "Take them downstairs. Use the new lock. Let them see how quiet it gets after three days."
