Chapter 77: Enemies of the Crown

I used to think the worst betrayal came from lies. But now I know—the real poison is silence.

Because silence allows monsters to hide behind polished names and designer suits. It allows generational power to rot from the inside out while the rest of us smile, nod, and pretend we don’t feel the floor cracking beneath our feet.

The Dominion League wasn’t just a story whispered in dark corners.

It was real.

And it had marked me.

“They’ll come after your credibility first,” Dominic said, pacing in front of the penthouse windows like a caged beast. “You’re already a target. If you keep digging, they’ll come for your job, your name, your life.”

“And if I don’t keep digging?” I asked, arms crossed. “They still come. So what difference does it make?”

He stopped pacing and looked at me, his expression unreadable. “It makes all the difference, Elena. Because if we go after them—we go to war.”

I met his eyes without blinking. “Then let’s not go alone.”

By morning, every major news outlet had picked up whispers about “Sinclair’s hidden offshore accounts” and “Elena Sinclair’s conflict of interest as a journalist.”

Someone had pulled the trigger.

And I was in the crosshairs.

I stood in the middle of the Caldwell Enterprises pressroom, lights burning down on me as cameras clicked from every direction. I could almost hear the sharks circling.

Dominic stood beside me, immovable. The contrast between us was stark—his tailored black suit, calm and imposing. My navy dress, sharp-lined and strategic. His hand brushed against mine as the reporter from The Times barked a question.

“Elena, do you deny allegations that your investigative work into corporate corruption was used to protect your father’s reputation?”

I stepped forward. “I’ve never protected corruption. Not from strangers—and certainly not from family. If my father is guilty, I will report the truth. No matter what it costs.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd.

Dominic spoke next. “And anyone who thinks Caldwell Enterprises will be manipulated through fear or family ties—try me.”

His voice carried through the room like a threat wrapped in silk.

We left them stunned.

But I could already feel the retaliation coming.

Later that night, Victor Caldwell summoned us both.

His estate sat at the edge of the city, carved into a cliffside like a throne above the world. The last time I’d been here, I was still clinging to the illusion that truth and justice could coexist.

Now?

I wasn’t so naive.

Victor was already waiting in the study, standing by the fire with a drink in hand. He didn’t look like a father or a businessman. He looked like a king facing the fall of his empire.

“You made yourselves targets,” he said without turning around.

“No,” Dominic replied. “You made us targets when you kept secrets that could’ve gotten Elena killed.”

Victor turned slowly, his eyes sharp. “You think exposing the League is as simple as a press release and a few brave interviews? These people control elections. They erase names from the record like they never existed. They kill without leaving a mark.”

“Then why haven’t they erased you?” I asked.

He smiled bitterly. “Because I was useful. I still might be.”

“Olivia told us everything,” I said. “About the affair. The threats. The child you might’ve had.”

His face froze.

I continued. “So the League punished you both by forcing you to stay in the system. And now you think Dominic and I are making the same mistake by fighting back.”

Victor set his glass down with a soft clink. “You’re not making a mistake. You’re declaring war. And war has casualties.”

There was something final in his voice.

And then he looked at me—not with cruelty, but with something closer to guilt. “You remind me of her.”

My throat tightened. “My mother?”

He nodded. “She was fierce, like you. Beautiful and stubborn. The kind of woman men go to war over.”

Dominic stiffened beside me.

Victor looked between us. “If you’re going to fight this war together, then understand something very clearly. There is no turning back. And no one you love is safe.”

He walked out, leaving us alone in the firelight.

Back at the penthouse, the tension between Dominic and me was different now—sharper, tangled with the promise of something dangerous and unspoken.

I turned to him, voice low. “Do you think we’ll survive this?”

He stepped closer. “I don’t care about surviving if I don’t have you.”

The words hit me like a sucker punch.

Dominic Caldwell, the man I once swore to destroy, now stood as the only one I trusted in this war. And maybe that was the real tragedy—how hatred had turned into something terrifyingly real.

His hand slipped around my waist, slow and intentional. “You’ve changed everything, Elena. And if the League wants to take that from me—they’ll have to bury me first.”

“Don’t say that,” I whispered.

He lowered his head, our foreheads touching. “Then kiss me like it’s the last time.”

And I did.

With everything I had left.

But peace, even in his arms, was short-lived.

Because as the clock struck midnight, a notification lit up on my phone.

One word.

“Run.”

A second later, the windows shattered.

Smoke grenades hit the floor.

Dominic grabbed me and yanked me down just as masked figures stormed the room.

Sirens wailed in the distance—but I knew they wouldn’t arrive in time.

The war had officially begun.