Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
The first thing Dominic did was move Elias.
Not to a bunker.
Not to another country.
To Clara's sister's old farmhouse in Connecticut, a place nobody connected to the Falcones.
Elias hated it.
“There's no Wi-Fi.”
Dominic looked at him.
“You're alive.”
“Those aren't the same thing.”
Clara nearly laughed.
Even in danger, her son could argue.
But she noticed something else.
Dominic hadn't slept.
Neither had she.
For two days, they investigated the photograph.
The school.
The camera angles.
The vehicle.
The person who took it.
Nothing.
Then a retired detective named Samuel Reed called Dominic.
“I know who sent the message.”
Dominic went silent.
“Who?”
“Someone from your past.”
“I don't have many people from my past.”
“That's exactly the problem.”
Reed arrived that night carrying a cardboard box.
Inside were old documents.
Police reports.
Shipping records.
Photographs.
And one newspaper clipping.
MONTGOMERY SHIPPING EXECUTIVE DIES IN SUSPICIOUS WAREHOUSE FIRE.
Clara stared at the photograph.
Her father.
“I was told he died in an accident.”
“He didn't.”
Dominic looked at Reed.
“Then what happened?”
“He was investigating missing cargo.”
“What cargo?”
Reed hesitated.
“Medical equipment.”
Dominic's expression changed.
That connected to something else.
Nine years earlier, Nathaniel Harrington had suddenly acquired a struggling medical logistics company.
He had claimed it was a diversification strategy.
But the company had specialized in neonatal equipment.
Exactly the type of equipment Clara's father had been investigating.
Reed pulled out another document.
“This was never made public.”
Clara read it.
Her father's final report had identified several shipments that disappeared between New York and Eastern Europe.
The cargo wasn't illegal drugs.
It wasn't weapons.
It was infant medical equipment.
Machines destined for hospitals.
Dominic stared at the papers.
“Why steal equipment?”
Reed answered quietly.
“Insurance.”
The scheme was simple.
A shipment would be declared lost.
The insurance company would pay.
The equipment would be resold through intermediaries.
Millions in profit.
Hospitals would receive nothing.
But the final page made Clara's hands shake.
Her father had written one name.
Nathaniel Harrington.
Below it was another.
Victoria Kensington.
Clara closed her eyes.
“Victoria knew.”
“She may have known more than that,” Reed said.
Dominic stood.
“We need evidence.”
“We have evidence.”
“Not enough.”
Reed looked at him.
“Dominic, you're planning to start a war.”
“No.”
Dominic's voice was calm.
“I'm planning to finish one.”
Before dawn, someone attacked the farmhouse.
Not with guns.
With fire.
The alarm screamed.
Smoke filled the lower hallway.
Dominic woke Clara.
“Get Elias.”
They ran.
Elias was coughing.
Dominic carried him outside while Clara followed.
The farmhouse burned behind them.
Firefighters arrived twelve minutes later.
Nobody was seriously hurt.
But Elias's wooden coin box was gone.
Dominic stared at the flames.
Nine silver coins.
Gone.
Clara looked at him.
“Why would they take those?”
Dominic didn't answer.
Because he knew.
The coins weren't valuable.
The symbol was.
The person who burned the house wasn't stealing souvenirs.
They were searching for something.
Something Clara didn't know she possessed.
Three days later, they found the box.
It had been left outside Dominic's Manhattan office.
Inside were the nine silver coins.
And one new object.
A tiny key.
Clara recognized it immediately.
“My father's desk.”
Dominic stared at her.
“You still have it?”
“At the storage facility.”
They went there that afternoon.
The old desk had been untouched for nine years.
Clara inserted the key.
A hidden drawer opened.
Inside was a cassette tape.
A photograph.
And a handwritten note.
Clara, if you are reading this, I failed to protect you. Trust no one who tells you your marriage was only business.
Her hands trembled.
Dominic looked at the photograph.
It showed Nathaniel.
Victoria.
And another man.
A much younger Dominic.
Clara stared at him.
“You knew my father.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“Once.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father asked me to forget him.”
“Why?”
Dominic's eyes remained on the photograph.
“Because he believed someone inside my organization was helping Harrington.”
The room went silent.
For nine years, Dominic had thought he rescued Clara from Nathaniel.
May you like
Now he wondered whether someone had deliberately placed her in his path.
And the person who had engineered the entire chain of events might still be alive.
