Chapter 5 - The Corporate StrikeThe following week, Dominic didn't send us to Switzerland. Instead, he did something far more terrifying to his enemies: he weaponized his empire.
If Salvatore and the remaining syndicate factions wanted to play dirty, Dominic decided to tear their financial foundations down to the bare dirt.
It was a crisp Tuesday morning. I was sitting in the grand library on the second floor, helping Sophie color in a giant picture book while sunlight poured through the towering stained-glass windows, when the double doors swung open.
Dominic walked in, wearing a sharp charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt, looking every bit the ruthless billionaire CEO. Behind him trailed Marcus, his chief of security, carrying a stack of thick legal portfolios.
“We got them,” Marcus announced, setting the folders down on the oak table.
Dominic walked over, kneeling beside Sophie’s small chair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, plush snow leopard, placing it beside her crayons.
Sophie gasped, her brown eyes lighting up. “For me?”
“For you,” Dominic said softly, a faint, rare smile touching the corners of his mouth. He looked up at me. “Salvatore’s primary shipping ports in Indiana have just been seized by federal marshals acting on an anonymous tip containing three years of money-laundering records.”
I raised an eyebrow. “An anonymous tip?”
“A very well-documented tip,” Dominic smirked, standing up and sliding his hands into his pockets. “His accounts are frozen, his associates are turning on him to save their own skins, and by sunset, Salvatore won't even be able to afford a cup of coffee in this city, let alone a hit squad.”
“You dismantled an entire cartel in four days?” I asked, half-impressed, half-horrified.
“When you threaten what belongs to me,” Dominic said, his gray eyes locking onto mine with absolute, uncompromising territorial gravity, “I don't negotiate. I eradicate.”
Before I could answer, Marcus cleared his throat awkwardly from the doorway.
“Boss,” Marcus said, looking down at his tablet. “We have a visitor at the front gates. An unannounced guest.”
Dominic’s expression instantly darkened into stone. “Who?”
“It’s Victoria Vance,” Marcus said carefully. “Your former fiancée. She says she heard rumors that you’ve adopted a child and brought an archive clerk into the mansion... and she wants to congratulate you in person.”
The room went dead silent.
I stiffened. I had heard whispers among the staff about Victoria Vance—the daughter of a rival syndicate boss from the East Coast, a woman with ice in her veins and a history of getting exactly what she wanted through manipulation and blackmail.
Dominic closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, exhaling a long, irritated breath.
“Tell her I’m not home,” Dominic snapped.
“She brought media contacts with her, boss,” Marcus warned grimly. “If we turn her away at the gates, she’ll leak photos of the estate to the press, and within an hour, the tabloids will have Sophie’s face plastered across every news site in the country.”
Dominic’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
I stood up from the table, smoothing down my skirt. “Let her in.”
May you like
Dominic whipped his head around. “Claire, absolutely not. Victoria is a viper. She will tear you to pieces.”
“Let her try,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “If she’s going to attack my daughter or try to stake a claim on this house, she’s going to find out that the archive clerk from the West Side isn't as fragile as she thinks.”
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