Smoke over Pier 4

Dominic

Marcus stood beside my desk at eight o'clock in the evening, dropping a thick red folder onto the dark mahogany wood. The rain outside had turned into a heavy, slashing storm, wind whipping against the high glass windows of my office tower.

"The paper trail doesn't belong to a rival corporation, Mr. Voss.”

I didn't touch the folder. I kept my eyes fixed on the city map pinned to my wall, red ink marking every logistics hub in the lower harbor district.

"Whose paper trail is it?" I asked, my voice dry.

"The offshore shell company attempting to buy out the lower harbor dock leases is registered under Apex Holdings," Marcus said, his voice flat and precise. "Apex Holdings is funded through a private trust account in the Cayman Islands. The sole signatory on that trust is Evelyn Caldwell."

I turned around slowly, staring at Marcus as if he had spoken in a unknown tongue. "Aria's mother?"

"Yes, sir," Marcus confirmed. "And the secondary power of attorney on that account was activated three weeks ago, by Lila Caldwell."

Cold adrenaline spiked through my veins. "Lila?"

"She has been using Caldwell family funds to quietly purchase distressed commercial leases along Pier 4 and Pier 6," Marcus explained, pointing to the red folder. "She also used her family's political connections to force an emergency regional committee override this morning. She raised the commercial bond requirement for independent harbor operators from ten thousand dollars to forty thousand."

"Why?" I demanded, my hands clenching into tight fists at my sides. "Why would Lila care about small-time harbor permits in an industrial slum?"

"Because that is where Aria is," Marcus said softly.

The room went completely silent. The only sound was the howling wind outside the glass.

I took two steps toward Marcus, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped sledgehammer. "You found her?"

"We didn't find her through standard records, sir," Marcus confessed, taking a short breath. "Lila found her first. Lila hired a private corporate intelligence firm two weeks ago to track Aria's movements. When she discovered Aria was operating an independent dispatch service out of Pier 4 under her maiden name, Lila moved to crush her financially."

A violent, scorching rage exploded behind my eyes.

Lila had sat in my penthouse every night, wearing silk gowns, drinking my wine, putting on a fragile, helpless smile while secretly using her family's money to hunt down my ex-wife and destroy her life.

"Where is she right now, Marcus?" I roared, grabbing my suit jacket from the rack.

"Pier 4, sir," Marcus said, hurrying behind me as I stormed toward my private elevator. "She's inside a commercial dispatch shed on the eastern apron. But sir, you need to know…"

"Get the car!" I slammed my hand against the elevator call button, my chest heaving with uncontrolled fury.

"Sir, wait!" Marcus shouted, holding the elevator door open with his arm. "My field agent on Pier 4 just called two minutes ago. There's a situation developing down there."

I froze in the elevator doorway, looking at Marcus's pale face. "What situation?"

"A fire broke out in the wooden storage facility right next to Pier 4," Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave. "The local fire department is en route, but the storm winds are pushing the flames straight toward the dispatch sheds. The whole pier is going up in smoke."

Blood rushed to my ears with a deafening roar.

I didn't wait for Marcus to finish speaking. I shoved past him, ran down the private stairwell, and burst into the underground parking garage. I got into the Maybach, slammed my foot onto the accelerator, and roared out into the dark, storm-drenched streets.

I ran four red lights. I drove eighty miles an hour down the narrow, wet commercial avenues, the tires screaming against the asphalt as I pushed the car to its absolute limit.

Ten minutes later, I slammed the brakes outside the iron gates of Pier 4.

The sky above the harbor was painted a terrifying, bright orange. Thick, black plumes of smoke rolled off the wooden docks, whipped into violent spirals by the freezing sea wind. Fire engines were screaming in the distance, their red lights flashing against the gray rain, but the narrow access road was blocked by abandoned delivery trucks and panicked dockworkers running away from the flames.

I threw the car door open and stepped out into the pouring rain.

"Sir! You can't go down there!" A harbor security guard yelled, running toward me with a flashlight. "The timber structure is collapsing!"

I ignored him entirely. I shoved the guard out of my path and sprinted down the slippery concrete pier toward the wall of black smoke.

"Aria!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, rain soaking my face, smoke burning my eyes and throat. "Aria!"

Dockworkers were running past me carrying fire extinguishers and buckets of water, shouting over the roar of the blaze. High wooden beams were cracking and popping like gunfire as the fire swallowed the old boathouse.

"Hey! Get back!" A broad, gray-bearded man in a yellow slicker shouted, grabbing my arm as I tried to charge past a burning barricade. "The roof of the dispatch shed is about to cave in!"

I grabbed the old man by his shirt collar, pulling him close to my face. "Where is the woman who runs Caldwell Dispatch?"

The man's eyes went wide with terror. "She's inside! She went back in to get her records and ledger books! The door got jammed by falling timber!"

My heart stopped beating. My blood turned into liquid ice.

"Aria!" I roared.

I broke free from the old man's grip, pulled my heavy wool coat over my head, and leaped over the burning wooden beams, charging straight into the roaring inferno of the dispatch shed.

The air inside was thick with black smoke, white ash, and blistering heat. Sparks rained down from the wooden rafters above.

Through the haze of smoke, I saw her.

She was kneeling on the floor near the back desk, coughing violently, clutching a heavy black notebook against her chest with one arm. Her other hand was wrapped tightly around her lower stomach in a fierce, protective arc.

"Aria!" I screamed, dropping to my knees as I reached her.

She lifted her head. Her dark eyes were red from the smoke, her pale skin smeared with black soot. When she saw my face through the flames, there was no relief in her eyes. Only pure, terrifying panic.

"Dominic... no..." she gasped, her voice raspy, pulling herself backward against the wall, her arm tightening around her stomach like a shield. "Get away from me! Don't touch my baby!"

The world stopped spinning. The roar of the fire faded into absolute silence.

I stared down at her trembling hands pressed tightly over her abdomen.

My baby.