Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Wedding
Nobody moved.
Vivienne’s smile remained in place.
Dominic stepped toward her.
“What test?”
She looked at him as though the question amused her.
“The one that tells me whether you still trust the right people.”
Gabriel raised his gun.
Vivienne didn’t flinch.
“You can lower that,” she said. “If I wanted Dominic dead tonight, he would already be dead.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
Dominic lifted one hand.
“Gabriel.”
The gun lowered slightly.
Vivienne looked at me.
“Beatrice.”
I hated hearing my name in her mouth.
“You’ve been busy.”
“I balance books.”
“You investigate people.”
“Sometimes the numbers require it.”
Vivienne laughed softly.
“You were always smarter than the men expected.”
Dominic looked between us.
“You two know each other?”
“Not well.”
Vivienne tilted her head.
“Not personally.”
She held out the black envelope.
“For you.”
Dominic did not take it.
“Open it.”
He did.
Inside was a single photograph.
My blood froze.
It showed my father.
Alive.
Not from years ago.
The photograph was dated eighteen months earlier.
He stood beside a lake in Michigan wearing a dark coat.
A woman stood next to him.
Miriam Vale.
I stopped breathing.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered.
Dominic looked at me.
“Your father died seven years ago.”
“I know.”
Vivienne’s smile disappeared.
“That’s what everyone was told.”
I grabbed the photograph.
“Where did you get this?”
“From the person who took it.”
“Who?”
She looked at Dominic.
“Your father.”
Dominic went still.
“My father is dead.”
“Your father was presumed dead.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Most important truths begin as lies.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
“Enough games.”
Vivienne turned to him.
“You’ve protected Dominic for eleven years.”
“Yes.”
“You never asked what his father was protecting him from.”
Gabriel said nothing.
Vivienne looked at Dominic.
“Your father didn’t die in that explosion.”
“What did happen?”
“He disappeared.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“From whom?”
Vivienne looked at me.
“From the same person who is trying to kill you tomorrow.”
A gunshot shattered the ballroom window.
Everyone dropped.
Gabriel tackled Dominic down.
I hit the floor.
Glass exploded across the marble.
More shots followed.
The orchestra screamed.
Guests ran.
Security teams poured into the room.
Dominic grabbed my arm.
“Move.”
We disappeared behind the stone bar.
“Who’s shooting?” I whispered.
“Someone who wants us frightened.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It’s the answer that matters.”
Gabriel shouted orders.
Security lights flooded the ballroom.
The shooting stopped.
Seconds later, one of the guards returned.
“Shooter is gone.”
Dominic’s expression darkened.
He looked at Vivienne.
“You knew this would happen.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you bring everyone here?”
“Because tomorrow’s wedding was never going to be a wedding.”
“What was it?”
“A trap.”
Dominic stared at her.
“Explain.”
Vivienne took a slow breath.
“My father has been negotiating with the Marlow organization for six months.”
“I know.”
“No, Dominic. You know about the money. You don’t know why.”
She stepped closer.
“The wedding is designed to merge the Beaumont political network, the Pierce financial network and the Marlow criminal network.”
Dominic’s voice was ice.
“And my role?”
“Your death.”
Nobody spoke.
Vivienne continued.
“Once you die, your company passes under the authority of your estate trustees. Those trustees were selected by the Beaumont family.”
Dominic looked at me.
I understood first.
“They need you to legally marry him before killing him.”
Vivienne nodded.
“Exactly.”
Gabriel swore.
“Then why warn us?”
Vivienne’s face softened.
“I’m warning him because I never wanted him dead.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“You’re in love with Elias.”
“I was.”
“Was?”
She looked away.
“Elias helped me uncover what my father was doing.”
“So the photograph—”
“Was real.”
Dominic looked confused.
Vivienne’s voice cracked.
“I did meet Elias. I did work with him. I did steal copies of your security files.”
I stared at her.
“Then why should we believe you now?”
“Because Elias tried to kill me.”
Dominic’s expression shifted.
“When?”
“Six days ago.”
She pulled up her sleeve.
A thin scar ran along her arm.
“He told me I had served my purpose.”
“Your purpose?”
“To get Dominic to the altar.”
She looked at him.
“He was supposed to die during the vows.”
“How?”
Vivienne hesitated.
“Poison.”
Gabriel looked at Dominic.
“We change the entire wedding plan.”
“We don’t have time,” Dominic said.
The ballroom doors slammed shut.
Locks engaged.
Everybody froze.
A voice came through the hidden speaker system.
“Dominic Pierce.”
The voice was distorted.
“You have twelve hours.”
A digital clock appeared on every screen.
11:59:59.
The numbers began counting down.
“Tomorrow at noon, your bride will walk down the aisle.”
The voice laughed.
“And at twelve-oh-one, Chicago will belong to whoever survives.”
Every screen went black.
Vivienne whispered, “He knows.”
“Who?”
She looked at Dominic.
“Elias.”
We moved to Dominic’s private office.
The three of us sat around a conference table while Gabriel assembled his team outside.
Vivienne told us everything.
Her father, Charles Beaumont, had been quietly building alliances for years.
Elias Crowe had originally worked as a strategist for the Beaumont network before joining the Marlows.
The Marlow organization had never wanted peace.
They wanted control.
The wedding was simply the cleanest route.
Charles would announce the marriage.
Dominic would sign his estate documents.
A controlled scandal would make it appear he died in a conflict with old enemies.
Then the trustees would take control.
But there was one problem.
The trustees could only control the Pierce assets if Dominic’s biological heir was absent.
Dominic had no children.
Or so everyone believed.
I looked at him.
“Your father hid someone.”
“Yes.”
“An heir.”
Vivienne nodded.
“Or two.”
Dominic stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“My father told me once that Richard Pierce had another family.”
Gabriel looked stunned.
“Who?”
Vivienne shook her head.
“I never learned.”
I remembered the marriage register.
“Miriam Vale.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Find her.”
We searched records until dawn.
At 5:42 a.m., I found a bank transfer from the old Pierce estate.
Recipient: M. Vale.
The last transaction was from twelve years ago.
Destination:
St. Agnes Children’s Hospital.
My heart stopped.
“Dominic.”
He came to my desk.
“What?”
I pointed.
“Your father was sending money to a pediatric trust.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
I opened the beneficiary records.
A name appeared.
Nathaniel Pierce.
Born sixteen years ago.
Mother:
Miriam Vale.
Father:
Richard Pierce.
Dominic sat down.
He was silent.
Sixteen years ago, Dominic had been seventeen.
His father had another son.
A younger brother.
And suddenly the entire conspiracy made sense.
I whispered, “They don’t just want you dead.”
May you like
Dominic looked up.
“They want your brother.”
