Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Blueprint
Dominic dismissed Marcus with a wave of his hand, leaving me standing alone in the center of the vast study. The guards stationed at the mahogany double doors didn't move, their hands resting casually near the holstered firearms at their sides.
“Sit down, Clara,” Dominic instructed, gesturing to the leather armchair opposite his desk.
I didn't move. My legs felt like lead. “I’d rather stand, Mr. Moretti. Especially since your head of security seems convinced I’m a criminal mastermind.”
A faint, humorless ghost of a smile touched the corner of Dominic’s mouth. “Vincenzo is paid to suspect everyone, including me. That’s why he’s still alive. But I don’t rely on convenient coincidences. If you wanted Ethan dead, you wouldn't have let your daughter run across a ballroom to smash his plate.”
“Then why am I still standing here?” I asked bitterly. “Why aren’t I locked in the basement with the rest of the suspects?”
“Because,” Dominic said, leaning forward and tapping the forged signature on the clipboard, “whoever forged your signature made a critical mistake.”
My brows drew together. “What mistake?”
Dominic turned the clipboard toward me. “Look at the date. Tuesday, October fourteenth. Now, look at the time stamp: 11:45 PM. According to the estate’s electronic gate logs, your car exited the north gate at 6:30 PM that evening and didn't return until 8:15 AM the following morning. You were parked at St. Jude’s Pediatric Clinic for over three hours, and then you went straight home to your cottage.”
“You checked my car logs?”
“I check everything, Clara. That’s how I stay alive in New York,” Dominic replied smoothly. “Which means the person who forged this signature didn't bother to check the automated gate timestamps. They assumed you wouldn't have an alibi.”
“So you know I didn't take the battery?”
“I know someone inside my staff is trying to implicate you,” Dominic corrected. “Which means you are no longer just an employee. You are a target. And worse, you and your daughter are the only witnesses who can identify the man who touched the cake.”
The reality of those words settled over me like a freezing blanket. If the traitor inside the house realized that Lily had seen them in the service corridor, my three-year-old daughter wasn’t just safe because she was in a mansion; she was a loose end that someone would be willing to eliminate.
“I want to take Lily and leave,” I said, my voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Please, Mr. Moretti. Just let us pack our bags and go back to my sister’s place in Brooklyn. We don’t want your money, we don’t want protection—we just want to live.”
Dominic stood up, towering over the desk. The ambient light from the desk lamp cast sharp shadows across his harsh, chiseled features.
“You think you can just walk out of my gates right now?” Dominic asked softly. “The moment you step off this property, whoever is behind this will assume you told me everything. They won’t care that you’re a housekeeper. They will hunt you down to silence your daughter.”
May you like
He walked around the desk and stopped just inches from me. For all his terrifying reputation, there was a strange, grim intensity in his eyes that wasn't cruelty—it was resolve.
“You stay here,” Dominic ordered. “In the master wing. Right next to Ethan’s suite. It’s the only place in this house impenetrable enough to keep you both alive until I find out who runs this syndicate from the inside.”
