Chapter 2 - The Aftermath and the OfferThe fallout was instantaneous.
Within thirty seconds of Dominic’s announcement, the illusion of polite society shattered completely. Three different senior partners from prominent investment firms who had been laughing at Nathan’s jokes just ten minutes prior suddenly remembered urgent phone calls they had to make and vanished into the crowd. Emily burst into loud, theatrical tears, clinging to Nathan’s sleeve while he stood frozen, staring blankly at the champagne glass where his engagement ring sat submerged.
Dominic didn't stay to watch the wreckage. He turned smoothly, his hand still firmly curved around my waist, and guided me away from the ballroom toward the private elevator bank reserved for VIPs and hotel owners.
As the polished brass doors slid shut, sealing out the whispers, the staring eyes, and the lingering strains of Vivaldi, my knees finally decided to betray me.
A wave of dizziness hit me so hard I stumbled against the wall of the elevator. Dominic caught my elbow instantly, his grip strong, steady, and entirely unshakable.
"Breathe, Victoria," he instructed quietly, pressing a button that bypassed every floor until the very top penthouse suite.
"I'm not crying," I lied, though my voice cracked miserably on the word. I stared down at my naked ring finger, a strange, hollow numbness spreading through my chest. "I spent four years building that life with him. Four years of covering his bad investments, writing his speeches, smiling at snobby investors while he took all the credit... and he traded it for my sister in a service hallway."
"He didn't trade it," Dominic said, leaning back against the wood-paneled wall of the elevator as it hummed upward. "He gambled it. And like every amateur player, he assumed the house wouldn't notice until he was already cashed out."
I looked up at him, studying his profile under the warm, recessed lighting. Up close, without the golden chandeliers of the ballroom casting shadows, he looked even more imposing. The silver at his temples wasn't just a sign of age; it was a badge of hard-won survival. The scar across his eyebrow added a sharp, predatory edge to his otherwise immaculate appearance.
"Why did you do that?" I asked, wiping angrily at a stray tear that escaped my eye. "You ruined a man's entire career and multi-million-dollar pipeline just because I grabbed your sleeve and asked for a fake kiss?"
Dominic turned his head, his dark, piercing eyes locking onto mine. "Who said anything about a fake kiss?"
My breath hitched. "What?"
"I don't do charity work, Victoria," he said, his voice dropping an octave, rich with a gravelly intensity that made my skin tingle. "And I certainly don't involve myself in domestic disputes between ungrateful real estate brokers and unfaithful sisters unless there is a compelling reason."
"And what reason could you possibly have? You didn't even know who I was five minutes ago!"
"Correction," Dominic said softly as the elevator chimed and the doors glided open to reveal a sprawling, glass-walled penthouse overlooking the glittering skyline of Manhattan. "I knew who you were long before you walked into that ballroom tonight."
I froze in the center of the elevator, my mind racing through every possible connection. "I've never worked with Bellardi Holdings. My father's firm never crossed paths with yours—we're too small, too insignificant—"
"Your father’s firm was small," Dominic corrected, stepping out into the penthouse and gesturing for me to follow. "Because Nathan Wexler spent the last three years systematically bleeding it dry behind your back, routing contracts through shell companies to keep your family dependent on him."
The room went completely silent except for the low hum of the city lights outside.
I took a slow step forward out of the elevator, my heels clicking softly against the dark hardwood floor. "How... how could you possibly know that?"
Dominic walked over to a sleek marble bar, poured two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, and turned back to face me. "Because, Victoria, I own the holding company that Wexler has been secretly funneling those funds through. I’ve been watching him dig his own grave for six months. I was simply waiting for someone brave enough to hand him the shovel."
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He held out a second glass of sparkling water, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his chest.
"And tonight," Dominic whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes, "you didn't just hand him a shovel. You buried him."
