Chapter 5 - THE WATCH
Dominic woke to Clara sitting beside his hospital bed.
He smiled weakly.
“This is either heaven or a very aggressive punishment.”
Clara held up the watch.
His smile vanished.
“Where did you get this?”
Dominic stared.
“Clara—”
“Where?”
“My father’s safe.”
Her fingers tightened around it.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You had my father’s watch.”
“I found it three years ago among Salvatore’s possessions. I didn’t know whose it was until tonight.”
“Why carry it?”
“Victor found an engraving yesterday.”
Clara turned the watch over.
She had never noticed it as a child.
Inside the case were tiny initials.
T.J.
S.R.
And a date.
The day before Thomas Jenkins died.
“What does it mean?”
“I think our fathers hid something inside it.”
Dominic extended his hand.
Clara hesitated, then gave him the watch.
He pressed the crown.
Nothing.
Then Clara remembered her father winding it backward when she was little.
She turned the crown counterclockwise.
A tiny compartment opened.
Inside was a microSD card.
They stared.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Clara whispered.
Victor arrived with a laptop.
The card contained photographs, financial records, and one video.
Thomas Jenkins appeared on screen.
Clara covered her mouth.
Her father.
Alive.
Laugh lines around his eyes.
His old brown tie crooked exactly as she remembered.
“If you’re watching this,” Thomas said, “something probably went wrong.”
Clara began crying silently.
Dominic looked away to give her privacy.
Thomas explained everything.
Gallagher had been laundering money through charities, construction projects, and pension accounts.
But there was another name.
Salvatore Russo.
Clara glanced at Dominic.
His face hardened.
Thomas continued.
“Salvatore discovered what Gallagher was doing. He wanted out. We planned to take everything to federal investigators.”
Then Thomas leaned closer to the camera.
“But there’s someone inside Salvatore’s organization helping Gallagher.”
A photograph appeared.
A young man.
Victor whispered, “No.”
Dominic stared.
The man was recognizable even twenty years younger.
Arthur Pendleton.
Clara’s landlord.
Her blood turned cold.
“Arthur?”
Thomas continued.
“Arthur Pendleton handles property acquisitions for both organizations. If anything happens to me, do not trust him.”
Clara stood.
“My apartment.”
Dominic understood immediately.
“The drive.”
“I never had it.”
“Maybe Pendleton thought you did.”
Victor was already calling his men.
No answer.
Clara’s phone rang.
Arthur.
She stared at the screen.
Dominic said, “Speaker.”
She answered.
“Hello?”
“Clara.”
Arthur sounded pleasant.
Exactly as he had every month when demanding rent.
“You’ve caused quite a mess.”
Her skin crawled.
“What do you want?”
“What your father stole.”
“He’s been dead eleven years.”
“And yet he remains inconvenient.”
Dominic’s expression became murderous.
Arthur continued.
“You’ve been searching in the wrong direction. Gallagher isn’t your biggest problem.”
“Then who is?”
Arthur laughed.
“Ask Dominic who became rich after both fathers died.”
Clara looked at Dominic.
Arthur hung up.
Silence.
Dominic’s face changed.
Not anger.
Realization.
“Leo.”
Victor looked at him.
“What?”
“Leo’s father inherited Salvatore’s construction interests after his death.”
Victor went pale.
“Leo’s father died five years later.”
“And Leo inherited them.”
Clara remembered Leo laughing when Dominic insulted her.
Leo standing beside him every night.
Leo knowing everything.
“Where is he?”
Victor checked his phone.
Then looked toward the door.
“He left ten minutes ago.”
Dominic ripped out his IV.
“What are you doing?” Clara demanded.
“Finding him.”
“You were shot yesterday!”
“I noticed.”
Clara planted both hands against his chest.
He winced.
“Good,” she said. “Pain means sit down.”
“Clara.”
“No.”
Their eyes locked.
Then Dominic did something extraordinary.
He listened.
He sat.
Victor stared.
Dominic glared at him.
“Say one word and I’ll fire you.”
Victor’s mouth twitched.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Clara crossed her arms.
“We do this intelligently.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“We?”
“Yes, we.”
“I thought you hated me.”
“I can hate you and stop you from ripping open your stitches simultaneously.”
“Romantic.”
“Don’t push it.”
Victor’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face darkened.
“Leo emptied one of the company accounts.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-eight million.”
Dominic swore.
“And?”
“He took someone.”
Clara’s stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Victor looked at her.
“Your mother.”
Clara stopped breathing.
“No. She was under guard.”
“One of the guards was Leo’s cousin.”
Dominic stood despite Clara’s protest.
This time she didn’t stop him.
Victor handed Dominic his phone.
A message had arrived.
One photograph.
Clara’s mother sitting in the back seat of a car.
Terrified.
Alive.
Below it:
MIDNIGHT. OLD RUSSO PACKING HOUSE.
BRING THE WATCH.
COME ALONE.
Dominic looked at Clara.
“No.”
She already knew what he meant.
“No chance.”
“You’re staying here.”
“My mother.”
“My responsibility.”
Clara stepped closer.
“She is not your responsibility.”
Dominic’s gaze softened.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“You are.”
Clara’s anger disappeared.
Dominic seemed to realize what he had said.
Neither spoke.
Then Clara reached forward and gently touched the edge of his bandage.
“If you think that line means I’m letting you go alone, you really don’t know me.”
For the first time, Dominic smiled without cruelty.
May you like
“I’m beginning to.”
---
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