Chapter 3 - Blood and InkThe morning sun broke over the Manhattan skyline, casting sharp, golden light across the floor-to-ceiling windows of Dominic’s penthouse. I hadn't slept a wink. I spent the entire night sitting on the edge of the plush king-sized bed in the guest suite, watching the hours tick away on my phone.
My screen had been exploding since midnight. Forty-seven missed calls from Nathan. Thirty-two frantic text messages from my stepmother, Victoria—Emily’s mother.
“How could you do this to your sister?”
“You’re ruining this family’s reputation!”
“Nathan is devastated, Nora! Come home right now!”
I stared at the messages, a cold, bitter laughter rising in my chest. Not a single text asking if I was okay. Not a single word of apology for the eight months of deceit. To them, I wasn't a daughter or a sister; I was an asset that had just walked off the chessboard.
A knock at the door broke my thoughts.
“Enter,” I called out.
The door opened, and a woman in a crisp charcoal suit walked in, carrying three garment bags and a velvet jewelry box. Behind her was a young man holding a tray of fresh coffee and pastries.
“Good morning, Miss Blake,” the woman said politely. “Mr. Bellardi asked me to prepare you for this morning’s nine o'clock emergency board meeting. I am Elena, his personal stylist.”
I blinked, looking at the high-end designer tags sticking out of the bags. “He bought all of this for me?”
“Mr. Bellardi does not allow his inner circle to look anything less than formidable,” Elena replied with a sharp, professional smile. “We have an hour.”
By eight-thirty, I didn't recognize the woman staring back at me in the full-length mirror. Gone was the girl with the soft, practical dresses and simple tied-back hair. In her place stood a woman clad in a tailored, power-red Alexander McQueen pantsuit that hugged every curve with lethal precision. My dark hair was styled into sleek, sharp waves, and my lips were painted a matching blood-red.
When I walked out into the living room, Dominic was standing by the glass windows, reading a printed financial report. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit, his silver hair perfectly styled.
He turned around, and for a fraction of a second, his icy grey eyes widened. A slow, appreciative nod was the only outward sign of his reaction, but the sudden flare of heat in his gaze sent a shiver straight down my spine.
“Magnificent,” he said simply, walking toward me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stunning vintage platinum watch, strapping it carefully around my left wrist. “Your father gave this to me ten years ago as a down payment on a shipping contract. It belongs back with a Blake.”
I touched the cool metal, tears stinging the back of my eyes. “You knew my father?”
“I did,” Dominic said quietly. “Julian Blake was an honest man in a dishonest city. That’s why the Wexlers destroyed him. It’s time we return the favor.”
Ten minutes later, a fleet of three blacked-out Escalades pulled up outside the Blake Global Logistics headquarters in Midtown. Armed security guards leaped out, opening the doors for Dominic and me. As we stepped onto the curb, a barrage of camera flashes detonated in our faces.
Paparazzi and business journalists swarmed the barricades, screaming questions at the top of their lungs.
“Nora! Is it true you called off the wedding?”
“Mr. Bellardi, are you executing a hostile takeover of Blake Global?”
“Nora, what do you say to allegations that you betrayed your family last night?”
Dominic ignored them completely, shielding my body with his massive frame as he guided me through the glass doors of the skyscraper. Security personnel, usually stoic, practically bowed as Dominic swept past them toward the executive elevators.
When the elevator doors dinged open on the 40th floor, the atmosphere inside the boardroom was suffocatingly tense.
The entire board was present. At the head of the long mahogany table sat Nathan’s father, Richard Wexler, looking pale and furious. Beside him sat Nathan, his eyes red-rimmed, bruised bags hanging under his eyes. On the far side of the room stood my stepmother, Victoria, clutching a handkerchief, while Emily sat quietly in a corner, looking surprisingly subdued.
The moment the heavy double doors banged open, every eye in the room locked onto us.
“Nora!” Victoria wailed, rushing forward. “Thank God! You’ve completely lost your mind! Who is this man? What did he do to you last night?”
Dominic didn't even look at her. He simply raised a hand, and two of his suit-clad bodyguards stepped between Victoria and me, blocking her path entirely.
“Sit down, Victoria,” Dominic said softly.
“How dare you!” Richard Wexler slammed his hands onto the table, standing up. “This is a private corporate meeting, Bellardi! You have no standing here! Get out of my building before I call the federal authorities!”
Dominic let out a low, dark chuckle that sent a visible shudder through the board members. He walked to the head of the table, pulled out the high-backed leather chair reserved for the Chairman, and sat down calmly.
“Your building?” Dominic asked, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the polished wood. “Richard, check your inbox. At eight o'clock this morning, Bellardi Holdings purchased sixty percent of Blake Global’s outstanding debt from the Swiss banks. I don't just own this building—I own the chair you are standing on.”
Nathan’s jaw dropped. “That’s... that’s impossible!”
“Check your phone, Nathan,” I said, stepping forward, my voice ringing out clear and resonant across the silent room. I placed my hands on the table, leaning in toward my ex-fiancé. “And while you’re at it, check the corporate registry. Because as of five minutes ago, I officially activated the probate clause in my father’s will. My fifty-one percent voting shares are active.”
Nathan stared at me as if I were a stranger. “Nora... please. We can talk about this. Last night was a mistake—I was confused, I was drunk—”
“You weren't drunk for eight months, Nathan,” I cut in, my voice cold as ice. “You were calculating. But your math was wrong.”
Dominic slid a thick manila folder across the table toward the lead board member. “In that folder, you will find proof of systemic embezzlement committed by Richard and Nathan Wexler over the last three years. Fifty million dollars funnelled into off-shore accounts in Grand Cayman.”
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Panicked whispers immediately broke out among the board members. Richard’s face turned an ugly, mottled purple. “That’s forged! It’s a lie!”
“The FBI fraud division will be arriving in approximately twenty minutes to verify the signatures,” Dominic said smoothly, looking at his watch. “So, gentlemen of the board, you have a choice. You can vote to remove Richard and Nathan Wexler immediately and appoint Nora Blake as CEO... or you can go down with them as co-conspirators.”
