Chapter 5 - THE SINISTER DOSAGEGrant’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his natural composure masked the shock. He raised his hands slightly, a bitter, ironic smile touching his lips.
"Dom. Out of your study? This is a momentous occasion," Grant said smoothly, though his eyes darted toward the weapon in Dominic's hand. "You're holding a gun, but you haven't stood on your own two feet in six years. What are you going to do? Roll across the room to stop me?"
Dominic didn't blink. "You thought you buried me alive, Grant. You and Kline thought a slow-release neurotoxin disguised as a nerve treatment would keep my legs paralyzed forever while you quietly liquidated my accounts."
"Neurotoxin?" Grant let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Dom, you’re losing your mind. The stress of the confinement has finally rotted your brain. Kline is a licensed professional. He’s been keeping you alive!"
"He’s been keeping me numb," Dominic roared, the force of his voice echoing off the stone walls of the mansion.
He didn't just speak—he moved.
With a sudden, violent burst of effort, Dominic gripped the armrests, pushed his weight forward, and planted his boots firmly onto the hardwood floor.
Grant’s smug expression shattered entirely.
Dominic’s legs trembled violently under the strain, the muscles screaming against six years of forced atrophy, but he stood up. Towering over his wheelchair at a full six-foot-two, Dominic locked eyes with his traitorous cousin.
"You took my mobility," Dominic whispered, taking one agonizing, heavy step forward. The wood groaned beneath his boots. "You took my life. And worst of all, you thought I'd never figure out who pulled the trigger on Lower Wacker Drive."
Grant’s hand instinctively drifted toward his jacket pocket, his fingers searching for a hidden blade. "You're insane. If you shoot me, the entire organization collapses within twenty-four hours. The capos will tear this estate apart!"
"Let them try," Dominic said, taking a second step forward, closing the distance between them. "Because the moment I put a bullet in your shoulder, Clara is going to upload Dr. Kline’s chemical ledger to every federal prosecutor and syndicate boss from here to New York."
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Clara stepped out from behind the laundry basket, holding the burner laptop high. The screen glowed with a complete breakdown of the synthetic paralytic agents Kline had been pumping into Dominic's bloodstream for seventy-two months.
Grant looked at Clara, then back at Dominic, who now stood tall, blocking the only exit from the room. The trap had sprung, and the hunter had suddenly become the hunted.
