Chapter 4

Dominic Diaz

Twenty six.

Tech millionaire.

The only son of the infamous Carlos Diaz a name that opened doors, commanded respect, and left chaos in its wake.

And me? I’m next in line to take over the family empire. Not that I give a damn.

The family business is all politics, handshakes, and backroom deals with strings attached. But the worst part? The marriage deal my father struck with the Foster family.

I barely had a say. He’d picked out the “perfect” girl for me Hayley Foster.

Biggest mistake of my life? Sleeping with her once. One night. That’s all it took for her to start calling herself my fiancée. She’s a nightmare wrapped in designer clothes, convinced that one hookup gave her the right to waltz into my life and claim a title she’ll never have.

What a mess.

I was standing by my office window, staring at the skyline when Leo walked in. My right hand man. Loyal, efficient, and annoyingly punctual.

“Here’s the file you requested, sir,” he said, setting a thick folder on my desk.

I gave a nod, flipping through the pages without much interest. I was working on a new startup project something fresh, something that didn’t have my father’s name stamped all over it. We were exploring partnerships with European firms, which meant expanding the team.

As I scanned the file, Leo cleared his throat.

“Sir, you have dinner tonight at the Foster house.”

The words made my entire body tense. I looked up from the file slowly, my gaze locking on him.

Foster house.

What now?

“Okay,” I replied nonchalantly, my voice calm even though my thoughts were racing.

What the hell was my father plotting this time?

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair as I processed the inevitable disaster that dinner would be. Hayley, her overly enthusiastic parents, and my father a table full of people pretending we’re all part of one big happy arrangement.

Bullshit.

I hit the intercom button on my desk.

“Samantha, come in.”

Moments later, my secretary walked in. Polished, professional, always two steps ahead of the game.

“Any updates on the job postings for the new project?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes, sir. The interviews are scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Good,” I replied, my tone clipped. “That’s all. You can leave.”

Samantha nodded and left quietly, closing the door behind her.

I sat in silence for a moment, tapping my fingers on the desk.

Dinner with the Fosters.

What a damn circus this was turning out to be.

But something told me tonight would be different.

Something was coming.

I could feel it.

And whatever it was, I’d be ready.

I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight. These people will do anything to get what they want.

I grabbed the bottle, poured a heavy shot of whiskey, and let it burn all the way down—trying to steady myself for whatever storm was brewing tonight.