Chapter 8 - The Man Who Never Died
Dominic took the photograph from his mother.
The man standing outside the clinic was unmistakably Richard Rourke.
His father.
The man Dominic had buried five years earlier.
The man whose portrait hung in the main hall of the estate.
The man whose funeral he had attended.
"Where is he?"
Catherine shook her head.
"I don't know."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not."
Dominic slammed the photograph onto the table.
"Then explain the funeral."
Catherine's eyes filled with tears.
"Your father needed to disappear. He had enemies. He had debts. He had made arrangements with people who wanted him dead."
"So you buried someone else?"
"Yes."
Dominic stared at her.
"Whose body?"
Catherine couldn't answer.
Eliza felt sick.
The family had built an empire on lies, and every new discovery made the previous one seem almost ordinary.
"Why did you help him?" she asked.
Catherine turned toward her.
"Because I loved him."
"Enough to destroy your own son?"
Catherine's expression hardened.
"You don't understand what it means to survive in this family."
Eliza looked at Dominic.
"She's right about one thing."
He turned.
"Which thing?"
"That we don't understand. Because we've never been told the truth."
Catherine laughed bitterly.
"You think you're going to change him?"
Eliza didn't answer.
Catherine stepped closer.
"Dominic has always been his father's son. He will choose power eventually. He always does."
Dominic looked at his mother.
"Not anymore."
He turned to Griffin.
"Take her statement. Do not let her leave until we understand everything."
Catherine's face went pale.
"You can't hold me here."
"I'm not holding you. I'm asking you to explain why you helped arrange the murder of my grandmother."
Catherine looked at Eliza.
Then she said, "Ask your wife about the hotel."
Dominic's expression changed.
"What hotel?"
Catherine smiled.
"She hasn't told you?"
Eliza stared at her.
"What are you talking about?"
Catherine opened a folder and removed a photograph.
It showed Eliza outside a hotel in downtown Chicago.
The same photograph Celeste had sent.
But this time there was another image.
Eliza entering a room.
And a third.
Eliza leaving forty minutes later.
Dominic looked at her.
"Who were you meeting?"
Eliza felt anger rise.
"Daniel Cross. The attorney who prepared my divorce papers."
Catherine smiled.
"Then why did he pay for your hotel room?"
Eliza took the photograph.
The date was wrong.
The photograph was real, but the date printed beneath it had been altered.
She recognized the dress she was wearing.
It was from a charity dinner held six months earlier.
And Daniel hadn't been there.
She remembered the evening.
She had gone to the hotel to retrieve a document Dominic had forgotten after a business meeting.
"Someone altered these."
Catherine shrugged.
"Believe whatever you want."
Dominic looked at Griffin.
"Verify every image."
Griffin nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
And went pale.
"Sir, the Blackridge board has called an emergency meeting."
"Why?"
"Celeste has filed a petition claiming you are mentally unfit to manage the company."
Dominic stared at him.
"On what grounds?"
"She claims you're experiencing emotional instability because of your marriage breakdown."
Eliza laughed in disbelief.
"She caused the marriage breakdown."
Griffin continued.
"There's more. She has presented documents showing that you transferred controlling shares to her three months ago."
Dominic went still.
"I never transferred shares."
"The signatures appear genuine."
"Then they're forged."
"Maybe. But the board has accepted them provisionally."
Dominic looked toward the window.
Celeste wasn't merely trying to become his wife.
She was trying to become the owner of everything.
And someone had helped her.
His father.
"Get everyone to the estate," he ordered.
That evening, Dominic gathered the remaining board members in the main conference room.
Eliza stood beside Paige near the back.
Celeste arrived wearing a black designer suit.
The emerald necklace rested against her throat.
She looked perfectly composed.
"Dominic," she said. "I hope you've reconsidered."
He didn't answer.
She placed a folder on the table.
"These documents establish my position as the new majority shareholder."
Dominic opened the folder.
Then he smiled.
It was a small, dangerous smile.
"Interesting."
Celeste frowned.
"What?"
He lifted the final page.
"This document says the transfer was witnessed by Evelyn Rourke."
Celeste's smile faltered.
"Yes."
Dominic leaned back.
"My grandmother died five years ago."
A murmur spread through the room.
He placed the page under the light.
"And the signature is dated three months ago."
Celeste's expression froze.
Then the conference room doors opened.
A man walked inside.
Older.
Thin.
With silver hair and a familiar scar above his eyebrow.
Dominic stood.
His father smiled.
May you like
"Hello, son."
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