Chapter 10 - Dominic’s Rules
Dominic moved me into the east guest suite that night.
I objected.
He ignored me.
I objected louder.
He still ignored me.
“You have a remarkable talent for pretending other people haven’t spoken,” I said.
He stood in the doorway while Marco’s security team checked the windows.
“I heard you.”
“You simply don’t care.”
“Correct.”
“That isn’t charming.”
“I wasn’t attempting charm.”
“Good.”
His eyes almost smiled.
Then his expression turned serious.
“Claire, somebody followed us.”
“I noticed.”
“They photographed you.”
“I also noticed that.”
“They sent you a threat.”
“I am beginning to understand the pattern.”
“You don’t leave this property alone.”
I folded my arms.
“You are not my employer.”
“Technically Rosa hired your company.”
“Exactly.”
“I own the house.”
“That does not make you emperor of Illinois.”
Marco walked past the doorway.
I heard him laugh.
Dominic looked after him.
“I’m firing him.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Probably not.”
It was the strangest conversation I had ever had after receiving a threat.
Later, Dominic showed me Maria’s remaining letter.
The address in New Hampshire belonged to a cottage purchased in 1993 by Anna Mercer.
The deed was transferred in 2008.
Anna Mercer vanished from public records after that.
No death certificate.
No marriage license.
No obvious trail.
“She could still be alive,” I said.
Dominic looked at the fire.
“She would be seventy-three.”
“That is not ancient.”
“My mother has been dead in my mind for thirty-one years.”
He glanced toward me.
“I don’t know what I want the answer to be.”
I understood more than I wanted to.
A dead parent could be mourned.
A living parent who had stayed away created different wounds.
“Maybe you don’t have to decide before you know.”
Dominic looked at me for a long moment.
“You always talk like that?”
“Only when wearing actual clothes.”
That finally made him smile.
Then Marco entered.
He carried security footage.
The car outside the estate had been traced.
It belonged to a company tied to Vittorio’s son, Anthony.
Anthony Caruso.
Forty-four.
Dominic’s cousin.
One of the men who controlled the family’s construction businesses.
Dominic watched the footage.
“Anthony wouldn’t do this without his father.”
Marco hesitated.
“Maybe.”
Dominic noticed.
“What?”
“I’ve been looking at the financial records.”
“And?”
“The payments didn’t stop with Vittorio.”
Dominic went still.
“They accelerated.”
“Under Anthony?”
“Yes.”
Marco placed a stack of documents on the table.
“Three years ago.”
“Six years ago.”
“Last month.”
Dominic flipped pages.
“Somebody has been using your legitimate companies to move money.”
“Who signed approvals?”
Marco answered carefully.
“Your chief financial officer.”
Dominic looked up.
“Daniel Crowe?”
“Yes.”
Dominic had trusted Daniel for fifteen years.
Suddenly the conspiracy was no longer thirty-one years old.
It was current.
Active.
And close.
My phone vibrated again.
This time it was Aunt Rosa.
Her voice shook.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Where is Dominic?”
“He’s here.”
“Put me on speaker.”
I did.
Rosa spoke quickly.
“Someone broke into my apartment.”
Dominic stood.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“What did they take?”
Rosa hesitated.
“Nothing valuable.”
“What did they take, Rosa?”
Her answer made the room cold.
“The blue dress.”
Dominic frowned.
“What blue dress?”
May you like
Rosa whispered,
“The dress your mother wore in the portrait.”
