Chapter 2 - The Woman Everyone Ignored Was Suddenly Worth Killing For
Dominic moved Clara through a hidden passage behind the library before she had time to fully understand what was happening.
The walls seemed to close around them.
A narrow staircase spiraled downward beneath the house.
Clara stumbled once.
Dominic caught her waist.
"Careful."
She pulled herself upright.
"I'm fine."
"You almost fell."
"I noticed."
His mouth tightened as though he was trying not to smile.
Even now.
Even with gunfire upstairs.
Something about her answer amused him.
"You're strange."
"So I've been told."
He looked over his shoulder.
"Good."
They reached a reinforced steel door.
Dominic entered a code.
The door opened into an underground garage.
A black SUV waited.
Clara stopped.
"This is insane."
"I know."
"You've known me for less than an hour."
"I've known about you for seven months."
"That doesn't make it better."
"No."
He opened the passenger door.
"Get in."
She hesitated.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere they can't reach you."
"Who are they?"
"My father's men."
She stared at him.
"I thought you said your father was dead."
"He is."
"Then why do his men still work for you?"
"They don't."
The answer made her stomach drop.
Dominic closed the door after she got inside.
He walked around the front.
A second vehicle followed them out.
Clara watched the mansion disappear behind them.
She turned.
"Why are you protecting me?"
Dominic kept his eyes on the road.
"Because your father asked me to."
"Only because of that?"
Silence.
She studied him.
He seemed bothered by the question.
"Maybe not."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting right now."
They drove into Manhattan.
The city blurred beyond the armored windows.
Clara looked at her hands.
"Did my father know you?"
"Yes."
"How well?"
"Well enough that he trusted me with his life."
"And did you trust him?"
Dominic's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"More than anyone."
Clara swallowed.
"Then why didn't you save him?"
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Dominic did not answer for several seconds.
"Because he asked me not to."
She looked at him.
"That's impossible."
"He knew they were watching me."
"Who?"
"People inside my organization."
"Your own people?"
"My uncle. Two captains. A banker. A judge. At least one federal contact."
Clara stared.
"How many enemies do you have?"
"Enough."
They arrived at a townhouse on the Upper East Side.
Dominic unlocked the door.
"This is one of my safe properties."
"How many do you have?"
"Eight."
"That's ridiculous."
"I agree."
"Why do you live like this?"
He looked at her.
"Because men who own what other people want don't get ordinary lives."
The words were simple.
But they carried loneliness.
Clara entered.
The townhouse was elegant but strangely empty.
No family photographs.
No personal decorations.
No evidence anyone loved there.
"Where's everyone?"
"Elsewhere."
"Do you always live alone?"
"Mostly."
"That sounds lonely."
"It is."
She looked at him.
He looked away.
The admission seemed to surprise them both.
A woman entered from the kitchen.
"Mr. Caruso."
"Maria."
She looked at Clara.
"Is this her?"
Dominic nodded.
"She's safe here."
Maria smiled warmly.
"You must be Clara."
Clara frowned.
"How does everyone know my name?"
Maria glanced at Dominic.
He said nothing.
Clara sat at the kitchen table.
"Fine. Tell me everything."
Dominic remained standing.
"You aren't leaving this house."
"I know."
"Your phone stays here."
She handed it over.
"No argument?"
"I understand surveillance."
"You work in accounting."
"I'm not stupid."
His eyebrows lifted.
"What kind?"
"Forensic accounting."
That got his full attention.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You didn't ask."
He stared at her.
Then he laughed.
Quietly.
Unexpectedly.
Clara had never heard a laugh like that from someone who looked as dangerous as he did.
"Of course."
"What?"
"Your father taught you."
"He did."
"You can read financial structures."
"Yes."
"Find irregularities."
"Yes."
"Follow money."
"Yes."
Dominic sat opposite her.
"And you know exactly what the blue ledger is."
Clara frowned.
"I don't."
Dominic opened a folder.
Inside were financial statements.
Transfers.
Shell companies.
Shipping records.
Dates.
Amounts.
Clara read the first page.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Her expression changed.
"This isn't a ledger."
"No."
"It's a map."
Dominic leaned forward.
"What?"
She tapped the page.
"These transfers aren't payments."
He waited.
"They're coordinates."
"Explain."
"The companies are all connected through property purchases. But the purchase dates don't line up with the money."
"Meaning?"
"Money moved first."
She pointed.
"Then property was acquired exactly forty-eight hours later."
Dominic stared.
"Why?"
"To clean the money."
He nodded slowly.
She kept reading.
"Someone has been moving cash through construction projects."
"Yes."
"But this isn't your father."
"No."
She looked up.
"How do you know?"
"Because my father was too greedy to be this careful."
That made her laugh.
Dominic smiled.
"Your father?"
"Old-school."
He leaned back.
"The problem is that this network started after my father's death."
Clara's eyes narrowed.
"So someone took over."
"Exactly."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
She looked at the transfers.
"Maybe we do."
She circled a company name.
"Caruso Urban Renewal."
Dominic frowned.
"That belongs to you."
"Not directly."
"Someone owns twenty-three percent through a trust."
"Which trust?"
Clara pointed at the reference.
"The Bennett Family Trust."
The room went silent.
Dominic's face changed.
"What?"
She looked up.
"My father."
"That trust was frozen."
"Apparently not."
Dominic took the papers.
He read quickly.
Then he stood.
"Your father wasn't just an accountant."
"What was he?"
"One of the original shareholders."
Clara shook her head.
"No."
"Yes."
"He never had money."
"Because he hid it."
"Why?"
Dominic looked at her.
"Because if people knew he owned part of Caruso Urban Renewal, he would have been dead much earlier."
Clara's eyes filled.
"My father spent his whole life terrified."
Dominic quietly replied, "So did I."
She looked at him.
"You?"
He said nothing.
The door suddenly opened.
Daniel, Dominic's security chief, rushed inside.
"Sir."
"What?"
"We found the shooter."
Dominic stood.
"Who?"
Daniel looked at Clara.
Then back at Dominic.
"His name is Marcus Bell."
Dominic froze.
"Impossible."
"Why?"
"Because Marcus has been dead for six years."
Clara felt a chill.
"What does that mean?"
Dominic walked toward the door.
"It means someone is using dead people."
"Why?"
He turned.
"Because dead men can't betray them."
He looked at Clara.
"And they think you're the only person who can prove they exist."
That night, Clara couldn't sleep.
At 3:00 a.m., she walked downstairs.
Dominic was in the kitchen.
No suit.
No tie.
Just a white shirt with rolled sleeves.
He looked almost human.
"You should sleep."
"So should you."
He poured water.
"Nightmares?"
She nodded.
"About your father?"
"Sometimes."
"What about tonight?"
"About you."
He stopped.
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I."
She leaned against the counter.
"I don't know why I'm here."
Dominic stepped closer.
"Because you were always supposed to be."
Her eyes met his.
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Silence.
Then he reached past her for a glass.
His shoulder brushed hers.
Neither moved.
For one suspended second, the danger outside seemed very far away.
Then the phone rang.
Dominic answered.
His expression hardened.
"Say that again."
He listened.
Then looked at Clara.
"What?"
"Someone broke into your apartment."
She went pale.
"How?"
"They knew you weren't there."
"Why?"
Dominic ended the call.
"Because they expected you to go home."
He reached for her hand.
"From now on, Clara, you're never alone."
May you like
She stared at their joined hands.
For the first time, she didn't pull away.
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