Ch-16

•~•Third Person POV

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but those men are as good as ghosts. They're probably hidden in some shipping container by now, halfway to another country or—"

The crystal glass in Melissa’s right hand flew toward him before he could even finish his sentence.

Dominic saw it coming. He could have dodged easily, with his reflexes—but he didn’t move.

CRASH!

The glass struck the side of his forehead shattering on impact.

Sharp fragments bit into his skin as a warm trickle of blood slid down his temple, mixing with the damp remnants of champagne.

Shards clattered to the floor, some catching in the folds of his suit.

Across the room, Melissa stood rigid, chest heaving, her manicured fingers curled into fists. Rage darkened her sharp features, her lips twisting into a snarl.

"Five fucking hundred million dollars," she seethed. "Gone with those bastards. Just like that! And you're sorry?"

She stepped forward, slow and deliberate, eyes burning with fury.

"You had me all confident you'd catch them," she spat, stepping closer. "You were the one who suggested giving them that money and putting a tracker on it—money you were supposed to get back, along with my son and those bastards!"

Dominic remained silent, his expression unreadable. He didn’t reach for the wound she had just inflicted on him.

He didn’t even flinch. He simply held her gaze, steady and unyielding as she jabbed a shaking finger at him, her eyes blazing.

"This—" she gestured wildly at him. "You apologizing now just makes your fucking incompetence even more irritating," she hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

A sharp, frustrated breath left her lips. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel, stilettos clicking against the marble as she stormed out.

Dominic watched her go.

The door slammed behind her.

Silence.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

-------

A Few Hours Ago…

-------

The floor lamp cast long, shifting shadows against the mahogany desk, its dim glow barely reaching the far corners of the study.

The air was thick with silence, broken only by the slow, rhythmic creak of the leather chair as the man behind the desk idly spun it, one slow turn at a time.

Dominic stood near the doorway, his posture straight, hands clasped behind him. His gaze remained fixed on the man seated at the desk.

“What do we do now?” he asked, his voice steady.

The chair stilled. A deep voice, smooth yet laced with amusement, filled the space. “I suppose reporting back that you failed to capture those men despite suggesting a tracker on the ransom money won’t sit well with her, will it?”

Dominic exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “No, it won’t. If anything, it’ll only make her angrier and even more determined to catch them.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in. “I told her I couldn’t capture them at the train station because Aziel was injured, and I had to put his well-being first…”

“…Then I promised to track them down and bring them to her. But now that I have, I can’t just hand them over to stop her from spiraling—that would put Solane at risk of exposing her identity as Irene Lancaster.”

Dominic exhaled sharply, frustration creeping in. “We wouldn’t even be in this position if you hadn’t made me suggest the whole tracker idea to her in the first place.”

A low chuckle rumbled from the man's throat. "Oh? Are you blaming me now?”

Dominic’s jaw clenched as his gaze flickered to the floor. “Of course not.”

The man tilted his head, the ghost of amusement still playing on his lips. “It’s alright if you do.”

Dominic let out another breath. "No, it’s not… It’s just that I have to give her something. If I don’t, she’ll keep digging—with or without my help.”

The man tapped his fingers idly against the armrest. “Then let her dig.”

He leaned forward slightly, his face still half-shrouded in darkness. “By the time she reaches the bottom of the soil, all she’ll find is bones and dirt.”

Dominic’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

A flick of a lighter. A brief flare of orange illuminated the man’s face, casting sharp shadows over the scars left by his healed third-degree burns as he lit a cigarette.

The rich scent of tobacco curled into the air as he took a slow drag before he spoke again.

“I had you suggest tracking the money to Melissa mostly to make her bleed a little cash during a financially tight time,” he admitted, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.

“Of course, I knew exactly how it would end. I knew you’d eventually catch those men, and we were never going to hand them over to her. But I still wanted her to have that false sense of hope.” A short chuckle left his lips.

“…Because watching her cling to that hope while still panicking was just too entertaining. Watching her fear that the empire she built might slip through her fingers the moment she thought Aziel could die—that there’d be no one left to play Nathaniel, no way to stop the company from crumbling… It was satisfying.”

His smile widened, as if he were reliving a pleasant memory. “And then you bring Aziel back—just enough to calm her fears. But not his abductors. Not the people she so desperately wants to punish for daring to make her feel vulnerable. For making her fear losing control.”

He took another slow drag of his cigarette. “It was all just a game, mapped out from the very start. One I, unfortunately, no longer feel like playing.” His tone cooled, the amusement fading.

“…Because you’re right, I have to focus on protecting Irene Lancaster’s secret, at least until Aziel is fully on our side. Letting Melissa get her hands on those men would ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

He leaned back in his chair. “We have to let them go.”

Dominic’s brow furrowed. “Let them go,” he repeated. “As in—fake passports, new identities, a different country? I’ll handle it now if that’s what you want.”

The man let out a small, amused sigh. “That’s a good idea.” He paused, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, then he tilted his head slightly.

“But six feet under the ground is a much better and more permanent…solution.”

Dominic’s fingers twitched slightly, his expression unreadable as he now understood the man's earlier words—‘By the time she gets to the bottom of the soil, all she’ll find is bones and dirt.’

“You want to kill them?” His tone held no judgment. Just quiet understanding.

The man exhaled another slow breath of smoke, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the dimness.

“It’s nothing personal, and you know that… Just think of them as collateral damage.” He flicked his cigarette, letting the ash fall into the tray.

"Even if someone ever found them beneath the ground, they wouldn’t be able to answer any questions—because by then, they’d be nothing more than corpses.”

Dominic gave a slow nod of agreement, but then his gaze sharpened as a crucial detail surfaced in his mind.

“What about Zane Lancaster?” he asked. “Those men report to him. If they go silent for too long, he and his daughter might suspect Melissa was involved. They’ll panic. And when people panic, they make mistakes—mistakes we might not be able to fix.”

The man let out a thoughtful hum. “You’re right again. Loose ends…” He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray, watching the embers fall.

“Then let the leader report back. Have him say they found the tracker, got rid of it, and are already on their way out of the country.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “After that, I’ll handle the rest.”

Dominic’s gaze darkened. “You mean their deaths.”

The man gave a slow, bittersweet smile. Without a word, he rose from his chair, crushing the cigarette into the tray before stepping out of the shadows.

His presence felt heavier now, the burn scars on his face and hands only sharpening the authority in his gaze as he stopped in front of Dominic.

“I already have you working and spying on that she-devil, Melissa,” he murmured. “You know how temperamental and dangerous she is. I can’t have you staining your hands with blood, too.”

His hand came up, resting lightly on the back of Dominic’s neck. His voice softened. “Or what kind of father would that make me?”

Dominic said nothing. He didn’t need to.

His father pressed their foreheads together, his grip on his neck firm but not forceful.

“Soon,” he whispered. “All of this will be over, and we’ll have our revenge.”

Dominic’s eyes darkened with resolve. “Yes, Dad.”

-------

Present

-------

Dominic smirked at the door Melissa had just slammed shut.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it gently against the wound on the side of his head.

It was okay—just a little injury. Nothing he couldn’t shrug off. As long as everything was still going according to plan, he didn’t mind.