Chapter 2 - THE SERPENT’S WEDDING VEILDominic walked toward the grand staircase,
each step echoing like a gavel in a silent courtroom.
He did not go to his study,
nor did he check on the security feeds.
He went straight to the master suite,
where Claire Bennett was undoubtedly waiting,
wrapped in silk and lies.
He threw the doors open with such force that the crystal handles groaned against the wood.
Claire sat at her vanity,
brushing her long,
golden hair with a rhythmic,
calming motion that suggested she had no soul to bother her.
She didn't jump.
She didn't scream.
She simply met his gaze in the mirror,
a small,
perfect smile touching her lips.
"You're home early,
darling,"
she murmured,
setting the brush down with a delicate click.
"I thought the Atlantic City meetings were supposed to last until Friday."
Dominic didn't move from the doorway,
his hand still resting on the frame,
his knuckles white.
"Mia Carter is in the infirmary,"
he said,
his voice low and dangerous.
The smile on Claire's face didn't falter,
but her eyes flickered for a fraction of a second,
a spark of calculation behind the sapphire blue.
"Oh?"
"Is she back from Pennsylvania already?"
"Nathan said she had an emergency with her mother."
Dominic crossed the room in three long strides,
grabbing her by the chin and forcing her to look at him directly.
He could smell her perfume,
a scent of lilies and expensive vanity that now made him nauseous.
"I found her in the cellar,
Claire."
"Tied up."
"Starving."
"Under the lock that you insisted be installed."
Claire let out a soft,
melodic laugh that chilled him to his marrow.
"Dominic,
you're hurting me,"
she whispered,
though she didn't try to pull away.
"The woman was stealing."
"I caught her taking some of the more expensive vintages."
"I was going to wait until you got home to deal with her,"
"but I didn't want her to run away with the evidence."
"So you let a child cry for three days?"
"You let a human being rot in the dark because of a few bottles of fermented grapes?"
Dominic’s grip tightened,
his eyes searching her face for a trace of the woman he thought he loved.
He found nothing but a hollow vessel,
filled with ambition and a terrifying lack of empathy.
"She wasn't stealing,
Claire."
"Mia doesn't even drink."
"She was down there because she saw something she wasn't supposed to see,"
"wasn't she?"
Claire’s expression shifted,
the mask of the grieving fiancée finally cracking to reveal the cold predator beneath.
She leaned in,
her breath warm against his ear,
a whisper that sounded like a death sentence.
"She saw the ledger,
Dominic."
"The one Nathan keeps in the hidden safe."
"The one that shows exactly how much of your Atlantic City profit has been diverted into our private accounts."
Dominic felt the world tilt.
It wasn't just a domestic dispute.
It was a coup.
Nathan and Claire weren't just lovers or associates;
they were the architects of his downfall,
using his own house as their base of operations.
The woman he was supposed to marry had been sleeping in his bed while planning his execution.
"You were never going to marry me,"
he realized aloud.
"The wedding was just a deadline for my funeral."
Claire pulled away,
straightening her robe with a smug,
terrifying confidence.
"Check the SUVs,
Dominic."
May you like
"The men you brought back from the city?"
"They don't work for you anymore."
