Chapter 8 - WHAT DOMINIC’S FATHER DID
Mara was released at midnight.
The evidence against her collapsed almost as quickly as it appeared.
The gun had no usable fingerprints.
The chain of custody was broken.
Detective Lawson vanished from the station before Internal Affairs arrived.
Dominic drove Mara back to the lake house himself.
Neither spoke for twenty minutes.
Finally Mara said, “Pull over.”
“No.”
“Pull over.”
“Mara—”
“Now.”
He stopped beside the lake.
She opened the door and stepped into the cold.
Dominic followed.
“My mother investigated your family.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I knew my father had politicians on payroll. I didn’t know Eleanor was documenting it.”
“What did your father do?”
Dominic looked across the dark water.
“Everything.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“He fixed union votes. Bought judges. Ran protection crews. Smuggled goods through the port. Paid police.”
“And people died.”
“Yes.”
“Did my mother die because of him?”
Dominic’s voice roughened.
“My father died three years before Eleanor.”
Mara wrapped her arms around herself.
“So Senator Thorne continued whatever deal they had?”
“Likely.”
“Likely.”
“I won’t invent certainty to make you feel better.”
“Stop talking like a lawyer.”
“I’m trying not to lie.”
She turned on him.
“You want honesty? Fine. I am carrying your child and I have no idea whether being near you makes that child safer or puts a target on its back.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
He stepped closer.
“My mother died because of the life my father chose.”
Mara stopped.
Dominic continued.
“She was leaving him. Someone planted a bomb under her car to hurt him.”
His voice remained steady.
His eyes did not.
“She drove it instead.”
Mara’s anger softened despite herself.
“I was twenty.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
He looked at her.
“That’s why I changed certain things when I took over.”
“You’re still mafia.”
“Yes.”
“But different mafia?”
A humorless smile.
“I hear how stupid that sounds.”
She looked down.
“I don’t want this life for my baby.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then get out.”
Dominic went still.
Mara held his gaze.
“You said you wanted to learn to be a father. Start there.”
“You don’t walk away from an organization like mine.”
“Then don’t tell me you want a different life.”
The words hit him.
He looked toward the car.
His phone rang.
Marco.
Dominic answered.
“What?”
Marco spoke rapidly.
Dominic’s expression darkened.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Don’t touch anything. I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“What happened?” Mara asked.
“Preston disappeared from the clinic.”
“Disappeared?”
“His guard was unconscious.”
“Bianca?”
“Maybe.”
Dominic opened the car door.
Then stopped.
“Mara, there’s something I haven’t told you.”
She stared at him.
“What now?”
“The person who paid for Bellweather Risk to follow your mother wasn’t Senator Thorne.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Who?”
Dominic looked sick.
“The payment came from a Vale account.”
She took a step back.
“No.”
“I didn’t authorize it.”
“Whose account?”
“My father’s old private account.”
“Your father was dead.”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
Dominic’s voice turned cold.
“Which means somebody has been using my family’s money without my knowledge for years.”
Mara’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A video file.
She opened it.
Preston appeared on-screen.
Bleeding.
Tied to a chair.
A man behind the camera said,
“Bring Eleanor Whitfield’s original files to St. Vincent’s warehouse before dawn.”
Mara’s blood froze.
Then the camera moved.
Bianca was tied to a second chair.
Her face was swollen.
She looked terrified.
The voice continued.
“Come alone, Mara.”
May you like
A gun entered the frame.
“And tell Dominic Vale if we see one of his men, both of them die.”
