Chapter 8 - SEVENTEEN YEARS OF POISON
The silence inside the subterranean wine cellar was suffocating. Marcus stood near the wall, his hand resting heavy on the grip of his tactical sidearm, his eyes locked on Nathan. Daniel returned to the threshold, holding a bottle of water and a first-aid kit, but stopped dead in his tracks as he felt the lethal tension radiating between the two most powerful men in the Vale empire.
Dominic took a single step toward Nathan. The leather of his expensive shoes clicked loudly against the wet flagstones.
"Seventeen years, Nathan," Dominic said softly. His voice didn't shake. It carried no anger, no theatrical fury—only a terrifying, hollow disappointment.
Nathan’s posture subtly shifted. The polite, concerned executive vanished. The false shock faded from his eyes, replaced by a cold, sharp, calculating stillness. He didn't run. He didn't reach for a weapon. He knew that in this narrow stone alleyway, surrounded by Dominic's elite security team, running was an impossibility.
Nathan slowly dropped the leather-bound folder he was holding. It hit the damp stone floor with a dull thud, spilling several financial documents into the dark puddles.
"Seventeen years," Nathan repeated, his voice losing its polished warmth and turning flat, dry, and bitter. "Seventeen years of building your empire, Dom. Seventeen years of scrubbing your messes, managing your captains, handling your money, and playing the faithful shadow while you sat on the throne."
"I trusted you with my home," Dominic said, taking another slow step forward. "I trusted you with Mia. I trusted you with that child."
Nathan let out a short, cynical bark of laughter, shaking his head. "And that was your mistake, Dom. You got soft. You spent the last five years turning this syndicate into a corporate charity. Look at you—crying over a household manager and a brat while the Moretti family is buying up our docks in Jersey!"
"The Morettis," Dominic stated quietly, the name acting as the final key to the betrayal.
"They offered what you refused to see," Nathan sneered, his eyes flashing with long-suppressed resentment. "Full control of the Eastern seaboard logistics network. Fifty percent equity in the new offshore holding companies. All they wanted in exchange was the master encryption keys to your private asset ledgers—the keys that Mia held in the estate vault!"
Mia let out a weak, raspy cry from the floor, her hand clutching Harper's dress tightly.
"She wouldn't give them to you," Dominic said, realizing the truth. "That's why you locked her down here. You tried to break her."
"She was stubborn!" Nathan snapped, his calm composure finally breaking into genuine rage. "I gave her three days! I told her all she had to do was hand over the security tokens and I'd let her take the kid and walk away! But she stayed loyal to you! To you! A man who treats us all like pawns on his board!"
"Mia isn't a pawn," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a register so dark it sent a shiver through the room. "She is family. And you... you were a brother."
"Don't give me that bullshit family speech!" Nathan spat, taking a aggressive step forward, his face contorted with years of hidden envy. "Family doesn't leave you in the shadows! Family doesn't give the Brooklyn territories to a thirty-year-old hothead while I sit here managing house staff and writing cheques! I built half of this organization! I deserved half of the crown!"
"You deserved my trust," Dominic said coldly. "And you threw it away for Moretti's promises."
Dominic stopped three feet away from Nathan. He looked down at his lieutenant—the man who had stood beside him at his wedding, the man who had buried his father with him, the man who had eaten at his dinner table every Sunday for a decade.
"Where is Claire?" Dominic asked calmly.
Nathan sneered, refusing to answer.
"Daniel," Dominic said without turning his head. "Where is the head housekeeper?"
"We picked her up at the north gate ten minutes ago, Boss," Daniel reported crisply from the corridor. "She was trying to leave in her personal vehicle with two duffel bags full of cash. She's in the guardhouse right now, talking."
Nathan’s jaw tightened. His final safety net had collapsed.
Dominic looked at Nathan for a long, silent moment. The ice in Dominic's eyes was absolute.
"You left a four-year-old child to cry in a locked room for three days," Dominic said softly. "You let her mother starve in the dark."
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"Business is business, Dom," Nathan said, trying to hold onto a final shred of defiance, though a faint tremor was now visible in his fingers. "You taught me that yourself."
"No," Dominic replied, his voice echoing through the damp stone cellar. "I taught you that loyalty is absolute. You forgot the rule."
