Chapter 10 - THE DOOR
Natalie did not open the door.
That decision may have saved her from making the worst mistake of her life.
Dominic pounded on it.
“Natalie!”
She called me from inside.
I could hear him through the phone.
“You stole private documents!”
Natalie whispered, “What do I do?”
“Call 911.”
“I did.”
“Stay away from the door.”
“He has a key.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
The lock turned.
Natalie screamed.
Then the door stopped.
She had engaged the security chain.
Dominic shoved again.
“Natalie!”
“Go away!”
“You’re destroying everything!”
“You lied to me!”
“I was protecting you!”
“From what?”
“From Audrey!”
Even through the phone, I almost laughed.
Rebecca was already speaking to another line, relaying information.
Dad’s private security had no authority to force entry into Natalie’s home.
Police did.
Sirens rose faintly through her phone.
Dominic heard them.
“You called the cops?”
“Leave!”
“You think Audrey cares about you? You’re useful to her. That’s it.”
I said loudly into the phone, “Natalie, don’t answer him.”
Dominic stopped.
“Audrey?”
I froze.
He had heard me.
“Audrey, you’re there?”
“No.”
“You two planned this?”
Natalie shouted, “Get out!”
The chain rattled again.
Then footsteps.
Dominic was leaving.
Police arrived less than a minute later.
By then he was gone.
But security cameras captured everything.
Including the attempt to use a key to enter after Natalie told him to leave.
Rebecca exhaled.
“That changes things.”
“For custody?”
“For several things.”
Hours later, Leo slept on my chest as I sat in Dad’s kitchen.
I felt exhausted beyond language.
My mother had died eight years earlier.
That night I missed her so badly it felt physical.
Dad made tea.
“You used to call Mom when things went wrong?”
“Always.”
He nodded.
“So did I.”
I looked at him.
“I thought you never needed anybody.”
“That was good marketing.”
I smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
He read something.
“What?”
“Your aunt Marianne found an old file your mother kept.”
I frowned.
“About what?”
“Dominic.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you got engaged, your mother apparently had concerns.”
My pulse shifted.
“She never said anything.”
“She said something to me. I told her we shouldn’t interfere.”
“Dad.”
“I know.”
He looked older suddenly.
“What concerns?”
“She thought Dominic was too interested in family finances.”
I stared at him.
“She knew?”
“She suspected.”
“What file?”
Dad slid his phone across the table.
A scanned note written in my mother’s handwriting.
Dominic asked again about Audrey’s grandmother’s trust. He pretended it was casual. It wasn’t.
Dated seven years ago.
Before our wedding.
My hands started shaking.
Below it was another note.
Need to tell Audrey before the wedding. Charles thinks we should let her make her own choice. I agree—but she cannot choose without knowing.
I stopped.
“Did Mom ever talk to me?”
Dad looked down.
“No.”
“Why?”
“She was hospitalized three days later.”
My mother’s cancer had returned suddenly.
She died four months after my wedding.
I stared at the handwriting.
For years I believed Dominic’s financial obsession began after success changed him.
But Mom had seen it before we married.
Then Dad scrolled to the final page.
A name was written beneath Dominic’s.
Grant Holloway.
The lender.
And beside it, my mother had written only four words:
May you like
They already know each other.
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