Chapter 6 - THE TRAITOR IN WHITE
Dr. Nathan Cole disappeared before sunrise.
His apartment was empty.
His accounts had been drained.
His hospital locker contained nothing except an old photograph.
Two teenage boys stood beside Dominic’s father.
Dominic.
Elias.
And behind them stood a younger Nathan Cole.
“He grew up with them,” Isla said.
Carter nodded.
“His father was Ashford’s physician.”
Dominic woke that afternoon.
Isla was beside him.
Again.
His first words were predictable.
“Marco?”
“Safe.”
His second question wasn’t.
“You?”
“I’m fine.”
Only then did he relax.
Isla leaned closer.
“You almost died.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know.”
Her anger broke.
“You promised.”
“I came back.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Dominic studied her wet eyes.
“No.”
His hand found hers.
“It isn’t.”
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Isla whispered, “Nathan Cole is working with Elias.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“He was my childhood friend.”
“He disappeared.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Everyone eventually chooses a side.”
“I didn’t.”
His eyes opened.
“What?”
“You keep waiting for me to decide your world is too ugly and run.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
That surprised him.
Isla squeezed his hand.
“But you’re not your world.”
Something in Dominic finally surrendered.
He pulled her gently closer.
Their kiss was quiet.
No desperation.
No performance.
Just two exhausted people acknowledging what had become impossible to deny.
When they separated, Dominic whispered, “You should run.”
“Probably.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Because apparently I make terrible decisions.”
He smiled.
Three days later, Dominic was discharged again.
This time, Isla refused payment.
“You work for me.”
“Not anymore.”
His face changed.
She continued.
“I’m staying because I choose to.”
That distinction mattered.
Dominic nodded.
“Then stay.”
Their relationship changed slowly.
He never asked her to share his bed again.
Instead, Isla began choosing to sit beside him.
Some nights she fell asleep there.
Some mornings she woke with his hand around hers.
Marco noticed everything.
“You two are weird.”
Isla nearly dropped her coffee.
Dominic looked over his newspaper.
“Define weird.”
“You stare at each other.”
“We do not.”
Marco pointed at Isla.
“You’re doing it now.”
Dominic hid a smile behind his coffee.
Then Carter entered.
His expression ended the humor.
“We found Elias.”
A warehouse in Cicero.
Dominic immediately stood.
Isla blocked him.
“No.”
“Isla.”
“You were discharged seventy-two hours ago.”
“My brother—”
“Has spent fourteen years planning this. Waiting another week won’t kill him.”
“It might kill someone else.”
Carter placed photographs on the table.
Dr. Cole.
Elias.
And Chicago Assistant State’s Attorney Rebecca Sloan.
Isla stared.
“A prosecutor?”
Carter nodded.
“Elias has been feeding Sloan evidence against Dominic while simultaneously using Ashford resources to commit crimes.”
Dominic understood.
“He wants me destroyed from both sides.”
“Prison or death,” Carter said.
Isla studied the photographs.
Something felt wrong.
“Why would Elias meet a prosecutor publicly?”
“He didn’t know we were watching.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“He wanted you to see this.”
Dominic looked at her.
“What are you thinking?”
“He keeps showing you pieces.”
The ring.
The photograph.
Marco’s kidnapping.
Cole.
“Elias isn’t just trying to kill you.”
She looked at Dominic.
“He wants you to discover something.”
That evening, Isla examined every photograph.
At 2:13 a.m., she found it.
In three separate images, Elias wore a watch.
The time was always stopped.
11:17.
Isla woke Dominic.
“What happened at 11:17?”
He stared at the watch.
His face drained.
“The night my mother died.”
Isla’s heart pounded.
“What happened?”
“At 11:17, the police report says the intruders entered.”
“Who wrote the report?”
Dominic went silent.
Then he answered.
“Nathan Cole’s father.”
They reopened the archived case.
Carter obtained files Dominic had never seen.
The truth was hidden in one overlooked pathology report.
Dominic’s mother had died at 10:42.
Thirty-five minutes before the supposed attack began.
Someone had rewritten the timeline.
“Why?” Isla whispered.
Dominic looked sick.
Then Carter found another document.
A life insurance transfer.
Forty-eight hours before her murder, Dominic’s mother had secretly transferred controlling ownership of Ashford Maritime.
Not to her husband.
To her sons.
Both of them.
Dominic stared at Elias’s photograph.
“He didn’t come back for my empire.”
Isla understood.
“He came back for his half.”
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
May you like
He looked at the altered death report.
“He came back because he thinks I helped our father murder our mother.”
