Chapter 3 - Blood on the Stethoscope
Before I could push the door further, a massive, gloved hand clamped over my mouth from behind, pulling me back into the shadows of the main hallway.
I gasped against the thick leather glove, panic surging through me as my side slammed against a hard chest.
“I gave you one rule, Clara.”
Dominic’s voice whispered directly into my ear, ice-cold and laced with lethal promise.
He didn’t throw me to the floor. He slowly turned me around in the dark until my back was pressed against the cold mahogany wall. His massive frame trapped me completely. In the dim moonlight, his sharp jawline was set in stone, his dark eyes burning with dangerous fury.
“I... I heard noises,” I stammered, my pulse racing at a frantic beat. “Noah told me—”
“Noah is four years old and traumatized,” Dominic snapped, his thumb pressing lightly against my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. “You are twenty-two and supposed to have common sense. Do you have any idea what happens to people who disobey me?”
“I was trying to protect him!” I blurted out, refusing to cower. “He’s terrified, Mr. Vale! He thinks whatever is behind that door is going to hurt him. And if you care about your son half as much as you care about your empire, you’d stop locking doors and start looking at what’s actually happening in your own house!”
Dominic stared at me. For three long seconds, the silence between us was deafening. I expected him to snap my neck or call his guards to throw me into the freezing lake.
Instead, his phone buzzed violently in his coat pocket.
He broke eye contact, pulling out a secure satellite phone and clicking it open. “Speak.”
I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but I saw the moment Dominic’s demeanor shifted from cold anger to absolute savagery. His knuckles turned white around the phone.
“Which hospital?” Dominic asked softly. Too softly.
He paused, listening.
“Secure the floor. If a single nurse leaves that room without my permission, put a bullet in their knee. I’m coming.”
He ended the call and looked at me. His expression was no longer mask-like—it was dark, stormy, and focused.
“Get your coat,” Dominic commanded.
“What? Why? It’s two in the morning!”
“That was the director of pediatric cardiology at Northwestern,” Dominic said, grabbing my arm firmly but carefully, avoiding my bruised ribs. “Your brother Tyler had a sudden cardiac spike twenty minutes ago. A doctor tried to administer an unauthorized sedative.”
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My heart plummeted into a abyss. “Tyler? Is he okay?! Who tried to sedate him?!”
“My men stopped the doctor before the syringe hit his IV,” Dominic said, pulling me down the hallway toward the private elevator. “The doctor was working for Marcus Moretti. My rival. They know you work for me now, Clara. They’re coming at me through you.”
