Chapter 4 - The Attack on the Mansion
Emergency lights flickered on, bathing the corridor in a dim red glow.
Dominic drew his weapon and pushed Emma behind him.
“Stay close.”
Another gunshot echoed from the entrance hall.
His guards moved into position, shouting orders over their radios. The mansion had been secure when the evening began, but someone had opened the side gate from inside.
Someone with access.
Dominic looked toward Vanessa.
“Who knows about the east entrance?”
She shook her head.
“Your staff. Your security team. Marco.”
“And you.”
“I haven't been outside this room!”
A guard rushed into the library, blood running down his sleeve.
“Boss, three men came through the service entrance. They knew exactly where to go.”
“Where's Marco?”
“Still locked in the east guesthouse. Two men were assigned to watch him.”
Dominic's stomach tightened.
“Get him. Now.”
The guard hesitated.
“We tried. The guesthouse is empty.”
Marco had escaped.
Dominic handed Emma a small pistol from the locked drawer.
“Do you know how to use it?”
She nodded.
“My father taught me.”
“Then stay behind me.”
They moved through the servants' corridor toward the old wine cellar. Dominic knew every passage in the mansion, including the narrow staircase that led to a concealed exit beneath the garden wall.
As they descended, Emma stumbled.
Dominic caught her arm.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. But, sir…”
“What?”
“Mrs. Moretti told me something about the night she disappeared.”
He turned toward her.
“Tell me.”
“She said the fire was not an accident.”
Before he could ask more, a figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
Dominic raised his weapon.
“Stop!”
The man lifted his hands.
It was one of Dominic's own guards, Pietro.
“Boss, we have to move. The front gate is compromised.”
Dominic lowered his gun slightly.
“Who let them in?”
Pietro glanced at Emma.
“Not here.”
They hurried through the cellar and emerged into the garden, where two armored vehicles waited.
As Dominic helped Emma into the first vehicle, a loud explosion shook the mansion.
Flames erupted from the eastern wing.
The same wing where Isabella's old bedroom had been preserved exactly as she had left it.
Dominic stood frozen for a moment.
He had spent eighteen months believing he had lost Isabella in a fire.
Now another fire was consuming his home.
“Boss!” Pietro shouted.
Dominic climbed into the vehicle.
They sped away as the mansion's windows glowed orange behind them.
At a safe house outside the city, Dominic demanded answers.
Pietro admitted that he had received an anonymous message warning him that someone inside the security team was planning to betray Dominic. He had been investigating quietly when the attack began.
“Why didn't you tell me?” Dominic demanded.
“Because I didn't know who I could trust.”
Dominic almost laughed at the bitter irony.
No one seemed to know who they could trust anymore.
Emma sat beside the fireplace, staring at the wedding dress she had managed to save.
“There is another clue,” she said softly.
Dominic turned.
“What?”
“Mrs. Moretti asked me to remember the name of a town.”
She closed her eyes, concentrating.
“Bellweather. She said if the worst happened, I should look for a place called St. Agnes House.”
Dominic immediately took out his phone.
“Pietro, find every property called St. Agnes House within two hundred miles.”
Within twenty minutes, Pietro found one.
A former convent outside Bellweather had been converted into a private recovery center. It was registered under a charitable foundation with no public list of residents.
The foundation's largest donor was Sterling Holdings LLC.
Dominic stared at the screen.
“Vanessa said she hadn't seen Isabella in more than a year.”
Emma's face paled.
“Perhaps she wasn't telling the whole truth.”
Dominic called the center.
The receptionist refused to confirm whether anyone by Isabella's name was staying there.
But when Dominic mentioned the name Sarah Bell, the receptionist went silent.
Then she said, “I'm sorry, sir. We cannot discuss private residents.”
The call ended.
Dominic looked at Emma.
“Sarah Bell?”
Emma nodded slowly.
“Mrs. Moretti sometimes used that name when she was afraid someone was listening.”
Dominic grabbed his coat.
“We leave now.”
Pietro blocked the door.
“Boss, it could be a trap.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“If she's there, I've already wasted eighteen months.”
May you like
He looked toward the wedding dress.
“I won't waste another minute.”
