Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO BETRAYED THE FAMILY
At six that evening, Dorian called.
“Are you somewhere private?”
I glanced around my apartment.
“Yes.”
“I need you to hear something.”
A second later, my phone chimed with an incoming audio file.
I pressed play.
A man’s voice filled the room.
Victor Hale.
“Cross is getting sentimental. The woman has made him weak.”
Another voice answered.
A rougher voice I didn’t recognize.
“What about the records?”
“Soon. Once the divorce is finalized, he’ll think the problem has passed. Then we’ll take what we need.”
My hands began shaking.
Victor continued.
“And if he refuses?”
A pause.
“Then remind him that a divorce certificate doesn’t stop a bullet.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the phone.
“Where did you get that?”
“Marcus found it.”
I sank onto the couch.
“So he was right.”
“Yes.”
Dorian sounded exhausted.
“Marcus brought me copies of archived security recordings. Victor’s been using a private meeting room at one of our warehouses. He didn’t know its audio system was still running.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Hand everything over.”
“To whom?”
“Independent investigators working with the Cook County prosecutor’s office.”
I sat upright.
“Dorian, those recordings could expose your organization.”
“I know.”
“You could go to prison.”
“I know that too.”
My heart pounded.
He continued before I could speak.
“Victor’s involved in far more than extortion. Fraud. Smuggling. Threats against employees. Some of it happened under companies bearing my name.”
“Were you involved?”
The silence lasted several seconds.
Then he answered.
“Some of the older operations were mine to manage. I can’t pretend otherwise.”
I closed my eyes.
Dorian had never been innocent.
I’d known that when I married him.
But hearing him admit the consequences out loud made our future feel suddenly fragile.
“Why are you telling the authorities now?”
“Because I should have done it before Victor threatened you.”
A pause.
“And because our child deserves a father who stops making excuses.”
I pressed my hand over my eyes.
“Where are you?”
“At my office.”
“Are you safe?”
He exhaled slowly.
“For the moment.”
Then his voice softened.
“Alina, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Victor was prepared to use a pregnancy against us long before today.”
My blood ran cold.
“But he only found out about the baby today. He sent that picture from outside the hospital.”
“I think someone watching the hospital passed the news to him. But that isn't what frightens me most.”
I stopped breathing.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone accessed your medical records from a private clinic last year.”
I frowned.
“I haven't been to a clinic this year.”
“I know.”
“Then what records?”
“Your old fertility consultation.”
The room seemed to tilt.
A year earlier, after several months of trying unsuccessfully to conceive, I’d met with a specialist.
The tests had been normal.
But Dorian and I stopped trying when his work consumed our lives.
I had almost forgotten the consultation.
“Why would Victor care about that?”
Dorian’s voice went quiet.
“Because it told him how badly I wanted a family with you.”
My throat tightened.
“He didn't know you were pregnant back then. He knew that if it ever happened, I'd choose you over everything. And he was ready to use that against me.”
At eight that night, Mrs. Whitcomb knocked on my door.
She was carrying soup.
She was also visibly frightened.
“Sweetheart,” she whispered, “there’s a man downstairs asking about you.”
My stomach dropped.
“What man?”
“Gray hair. Nice coat. Very polite.”
Victor.
I moved toward the window.
One of Dorian’s security men was speaking to someone beside a black sedan.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello, Alina.”
Victor’s voice was warm.
Almost affectionate.
“It’s been too long.”
My mouth went dry.
“What do you want?”
“Just a conversation.”
“Then call Dorian.”
“Oh, I have. Unfortunately, he seems determined to misunderstand me.”
I could hear traffic in the background.
He was nearby.
“Leave me alone.”
Victor sighed.
“Your husband has a very dangerous habit of choosing emotion over duty. His father warned me this would happen.”
“You threatened my baby.”
“Now, now. Nobody wants anything unfortunate to happen.”
“Then why are you here?”
His voice hardened.
“Because Dorian has forty-eight hours to give me the records. And I’d like to avoid unnecessary unpleasantness.”
I felt anger burn through the fear.
“You’ve known him since he was a child.”
“Yes.”
“He trusted you.”
“I made him everything he is.”
“No,” I said quietly. “You taught him that power mattered more than people. He’s finally learning you were wrong.”
Silence.
Then Victor laughed.
“You sound very confident for a woman living in an apartment with one staircase and a broken elevator.”
My skin went cold.
He knew the building.
He knew its weaknesses.
I turned toward Mrs. Whitcomb.
She was watching me anxiously.
I lowered my voice.
“Leave the building. Now.”
Victor chuckled.
“Who’s that? Your elderly neighbor?”
I froze.
“Don’t touch her.”
“Then tell your husband to stop making this difficult.”
The call ended.
I immediately called Dorian.
He answered on the first ring.
“Alina?”
“Victor is outside.”
I heard a chair scrape.
“Where?”
“My building.”
“Lock your door.”
“He knows about Mrs. Whitcomb.”
“Alina, listen carefully—”
“No. You listen to me.”
My voice shook, but I forced it steady.
“He’s threatening an innocent woman because of your business. This ends tonight.”
“I’m already on my way.”
“Don’t come alone.”
“I’m not.”
“Dorian?”
“Yes?”
I swallowed.
“Don’t do anything that takes you away from this baby.”
For a moment, there was only breathing on the line.
Then he said softly, “I’ll do everything I can to come home.”
Twenty minutes later, Victor disappeared.
Dorian arrived to find the security guards unharmed but furious.
Victor had approached them politely, claimed to be a family friend, and left after delivering his message.
No confrontation.
No violence.
Just another reminder that he could get close whenever he wished.
Dorian entered my apartment with Marcus behind him.
Both men looked exhausted.
I was sitting beside Mrs. Whitcomb, who refused to leave until she’d finished explaining exactly why Victor had the manners of a snake.
Dorian apologized to her personally.
Then he arranged a hotel suite for her and her sister, with her agreement, until the danger passed.
She accepted only after demanding that someone water her plants.
When the door finally closed, I turned to my husband.
“I’m not running anymore.”
May you like
Dorian loosened his tie.
“Neither am I.”
