Daddy's Vow

It was almost evening and Dominic sat in his home office. The glass of whiskey beside him remained untouched as it had gone warm an hour ago. His fingers hovered over the file he hadn’t opened yet.”

The name on the file made his heart beat louder than it should.

Talia Monroe.

He hadn’t meant to follow her, he couldn't call himself a stalker. But when he saw her three days ago he didn't want to let her go. “She looked so lost when he first saw her. He was on his way to one of his companies when he saw her, sitting on the sidewalk, dirty with her hands out begging for money, some people give her, others dont. He had asked his driver to turn back and drive that same place to look at her again,  since then he had been struck by her vulnerability and innocent look. So he couldn't call himself a stalker even though he has been watching her for 3 days straight. Yes, he was obsessed with her and wanted her for himself.

He didn’t know how to approach her. He didn’t want to scare her off. But now, somehow fate had twisted in his favor, at least, that’s what he believed. Because of all the people who could’ve walked through his door that night, it was her. Talia.

He had dismissed all his staff that morning wanting them to have a day off before the rain came down. He hadn’t double-checked the locks like he normally did after they all left. He hadn’t expected anyone.

But then she came.

And now here he was, digging into her past like a man desperate for answers he already knew he wouldn’t like.

His eyes burned as he forced himself to focus on the manila folder spread before him. The private investigator he had called has every detail of Talia's life in the file before him. He opened it slowly and read it out in a low voice.

Subject: Talia Marie Monroe

DOB: March 15th, 2001

Status: No known living relatives

Guardian: St. Catherine's Home for Children (2005-2019)

Dominic's jaw clenched as he read the address. St. Catherine's. He knew that place by reputation alone, the kind of reputation that existed between the rich and sealed court documents. On paper, it was a state-certified facility for displaced children. In reality, it was something much darker.

His fingers traced the next line, and his blood ran cold.

Note: Subject fled facility at age 18 following suspected trafficking incident. Current whereabouts unknown until recent search from Mr Dominic Voss.

The rage that had been simmering beneath his ribs erupted into something white-hot and consuming. He pushed back from the desk so violently that his chair crashed into the bookshelf behind him, sending books tumbling to the floor with thunderous cracks.

Trafficking.

The word hung in the air like a curse, and Dominic found himself pacing the length of his office like a caged animal. His hands shook, actually shook, as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he needed.

"Marcus," he barked when the call connected. "I need everything you have on St. Catherine's Home. You hear me, everything. Financial records, staff histories, inspection reports, police calls in fact I don't care if you have to hack into the Vatican's database to get it."

That orphanage had a hidden reputation. Beneath the surface of charity and care, it had been quietly under investigation for suspicious disappearances. Rumors of girls being trafficked. Bought and sold like property.

He clenched his jaw.

"Dom, it's almost midnight..."

"I don't give a damn what time it is. I need it by morning." His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "And Marcus? This is personal."

He ended the call and returned to the file, forcing himself to read every agonizing detail. The picture that emerged made his hands curl into fists.

Talia had been brought to St. Catherine's at age four after her mother's overdose. No father listed on the birth certificate. No relatives came forward to claim her. For fourteen years, she'd lived in that hellhole, aging out of the cute phase that made children adoptable, becoming just another lost girl that society had written off.

There was a transcript attached, a conversation captured by hidden microphones that the investigators had somehow obtained. Dominic's vision blurred as he read the matron's words, discussing "buyers" and "special arrangements" with the casual indifference of someone selling livestock.

Talia had heard it all. A seventeen-year-old girl discovers that the people entrusted with her care were planning to sell her like property. The file noted that she'd disappeared that same night, taking nothing but the clothes on her body and whatever cash she'd managed to scrape together from odd jobs around the facility.

She had run as she was the only one who had succeeded in running away and hiding from them. That was four years ago and she had been surviving ever since and that girl who had escaped was now his obsession, his.

And then Dominic sank back into his chair, the weight of what he'd learned settling over him like lead. He wanted to protect her from the world, make her to show her beautiful face to thr world and not hide it. He will do it.

But there was something else burning alongside the protectiveness, something darker and more primitive. The need to make someone pay. To hunt down every person who had failed her, used her, threatened her, and showed them exactly what happened to predators who targeted the innocent.

He thought of St. Catherine's, still operating, still taking in vulnerable children. His jaw clenched until his teeth ached.

Not anymore.

His phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: 

(Already digging. This place has more red flags than a communist parade. Give me six hours.)

Dominic typed back: (Make it three.)

He closed the file and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as his mind raced through possibilities. Talia was still in the room, when he watched her on the CCTV in his room a few minutes ago, watching her sleep, peaceful for once, his body reacted, hard, hungry, but this time, he didn’t just want to f*ck her. He wanted to claim every broken part and stitch her back together with his hands, his body and his obsession. His dick hardened at that thought until his eyes went to the folder he had just closed.

He will  make sure his sunshine running away that hell was worth it, because she had met him and he swore he won't let her go even though he is almost twice her age.

By dawn, St. Catherine's Home would discover that their reckoning had finally arrived. He was going to burn that place down.