Chapter 5 - The Night Elise Vale DiedDominic’s mansion changed in thirty seconds.
Then he took Mara’s phone and placed it inside a drawer.
“What are you doing?”
“Assuming it’s compromised.”
“You think someone hacked my phone?”
“I think someone knew where your brother was tested this morning.”
Mara folded her arms.
“You know a lot about threats.”
Dominic gave her a flat look.
“My companies employ fourteen thousand people. Threats aren’t new.”
“Threatening sick teenagers is.”
“Yes.”
The single word carried something dangerous.
Dominic walked to a panel beside the fireplace and pressed his thumb against a scanner.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a second phone.
No number appeared when he activated it.
Mara raised an eyebrow.
“Normal billionaire equipment?”
“Normal equipment for someone whose competitors occasionally think kidnapping is a negotiation strategy.”
He called someone.
“Move a private protection team to St. Gabriel. Pediatric cardiology. Eli Bennett. Nobody gets near him without his sister’s approval.”
Mara stared.
Dominic ended the call.
“You didn’t ask me.”
“No.”
“What if I don’t want your people around him?”
“Then fire them after we determine who threatened him.”
She wanted to argue.
She couldn’t.
“Tell me what you know.”
Mara hesitated.
Dominic stepped closer.
“My son has driven eighteen caregivers out of this house. He hasn’t allowed me to touch him while he’s frightened in over a year. A behavioral specialist I trusted tells me he may need to be institutionalized.”
His voice became quieter.
“And now a housekeeper who has known him nine days claims she knows why he does it.”
Mara saw exhaustion beneath the anger.
Maybe guilt too.
“He’s trying to make them leave.”
“I know he makes them leave.”
“No. He wants them to leave.”
Dominic frowned.
“There’s a difference.”
Mara told him about the hidden corridor.
The drawings.
The seventeen red Xs.
Clara.
The cage.
Pike and Harrow discussing making Mara “number nineteen.”
She expected disbelief.
Dominic gave her none.
That frightened her more.
“You believe me.”
“I believe you believe it.”
“That’s politician language.”
“I’m not a politician.”
“You fund enough of them.”
For a second, Dominic almost smiled.
Then it vanished.
“Show me.”
They climbed upstairs.
Noah’s room was empty.
Dominic pushed aside the tapestry.
Nothing.
Mara stared.
“The opening was here.”
Dominic ran his hand across the wall.
Solid wood paneling.
“No.”
She pulled harder.
Still nothing.
“They changed it.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
He pressed a hidden catch near the molding.
A panel opened six feet farther down.
Mara stared.
“You knew?”
“I grew up here.”
They entered.
The hidden alcove was empty.
Every drawing was gone.
Mara felt sick.
“They knew.”
Dominic crouched and touched the dusty floor.
One clean rectangle showed where the wooden box had been.
“Recently.”
A sound came from behind them.
Noah.
He stood in the passage.
Dominic slowly turned.
“Noah.”
The boy looked from his father to Mara.
Then at the empty space.
His expression collapsed.
“No, sweetheart,” Mara whispered. “I didn’t take them.”
Noah backed away.
Dominic reached toward him.
“Noah, look at me.”
The child froze.
Dominic stopped moving.
Mara watched his hand fall.
Pain crossed the man’s face so quickly she almost missed it.
“I’m not going to touch you,” Dominic said softly.
Noah looked at him.
“I need to know about the drawings.”
Silence.
“Did Dr. Pike take them?”
Noah stared at the floor.
Dominic tried again.
“Mrs. Harrow?”
Nothing.
Mara crouched.
“What about the raven?”
Noah’s head lifted.
Dominic glanced at her.
“The bird you drew. The black bird.”
Noah’s eyes moved toward his father.
Then he whispered:
“Uncle.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
Mara saw it happen.
His entire body went rigid.
“Julian?” he asked.
Noah began shaking.
Dominic took one step back as though someone had struck him.
Julian Vale was not merely his half-brother.
He was Dominic’s closest advisor.
The man who had stood beside him at Elise’s funeral.
The man who handled Noah’s trust.
The man who had recommended Dr. Pike after Elise died.
Dominic crouched several feet from his son.
“Noah. Did Uncle Julian hurt Mommy?”
The child made a choking sound.
Then ran.
Dominic did not chase him.
He remained crouched in the narrow corridor.
Mara could see his hands shaking.
“You didn’t know,” she said.
Dominic looked up.
“No.”
It was the first time she had heard vulnerability in his voice.
“I didn’t know anything.”
An hour later, Dominic called Julian.
Mara listened from across the study.
“You’re coming to dinner tonight.”
Julian laughed through the speaker.
“Since when do you invite me like a mob boss?”
“Since I need to discuss the foundation audit.”
A pause.
“What audit?”
Dominic’s eyes met Mara’s.
“Exactly.”
Julian’s voice changed slightly.
“I’ll be there at seven.”
The call ended.
Mara exhaled.
“So what happens now?”
“We watch him.”
“What if Noah sees him?”
“He won’t.”
Dominic was wrong.
At 7:13 that evening, Julian Vale entered the mansion carrying a bottle of wine.
He looked enough like Dominic to reveal family resemblance, but there was something smoother about him.
Easier smile.
Warmer voice.
Less dangerous at first glance.
“Little brother.”
Dominic embraced him.
Mara stood near the dining room pretending to adjust flowers.
Julian’s right hand was bare.
No ring.
He handed Mrs. Harrow his coat.
“Where’s my favorite nephew?”
“Asleep.”
“Already?”
“Bad day.”
Julian looked sympathetically toward the stairs.
“Poor kid.”
Then a toy car rolled from the upstairs landing.
Every adult looked up.
Noah stood there.
His face was white.
Julian smiled.
“There he is.”
Noah screamed.
Not an angry scream.
A terrified one.
He ran backward.
Julian started toward the stairs.
Dominic stepped in front of him.
“Don’t.”
Julian stopped.
“What?”
“He doesn’t want you near him.”
“He’s confused.”
“He said your name today.”
Julian’s face remained perfectly calm.
But Mrs. Harrow dropped a wineglass.
It shattered.
Noah fled.
Dominic’s eyes moved from Julian to Harrow.
Nobody spoke.
Then Noah screamed again from upstairs.
Mara ran first.
She reached the bedroom and found the window open.
Curtains whipping in the wind.
Noah was gone.
On his pillow lay a single black feather.
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And written across the wall in red crayon were three words:
MOMMY DIDN’T CRASH.
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