Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT THE EMPIRE CRUMBLED
The call came at 12:43 a.m.
I was sitting on my couch, still wearing the same sweater I’d had on when Dorian kissed my forehead.
My phone vibrated.
Marcus.
I answered immediately.
“What happened?”
His breathing was ragged.
“Alina, Victor changed the meeting location.”
My heart dropped.
“What?”
“He knew investigators were watching the warehouse.”
“Where’s Dorian?”
A pause.
“Marcus?”
“We lost contact with him for several minutes.”
I stood so fast the room spun.
“What do you mean, lost contact?”
“We’re working to locate him.”
I gripped the back of the couch.
“Tell me where he is.”
“Alina, the safest thing you can do right now is stay in your apartment.”
I closed my eyes.
I had heard those words so many times.
Stay inside.
Stay quiet.
Stay safe.
I was tired of being protected with silence.
“Marcus,” I said, “if you want me to trust you, tell me the truth.”
He exhaled.
“Victor redirected Dorian to the old Cross cold-storage facility near the river. He told Dorian to bring the manifests there instead.”
“Is Victor inside?”
“We don't know.”
My blood chilled.
Then another call came through.
Unknown number.
I warned Marcus not to speak, then merged the incoming call with ours.
“Alina.”
Victor.
I nearly dropped the phone.
“Where is my husband?”
“Your husband is learning a difficult lesson.”
“What have you done?”
“Nothing he didn’t make necessary.”
“Let me speak to him.”
Victor chuckled.
“Still giving orders? You really are Mrs. Cross.”
I gripped the phone harder.
“Let. Me. Speak. To. Him.”
A rustling sound followed.
Then Dorian’s voice.
“Alina?”
My knees weakened.
“Dorian!”
“I’m all right.”
I heard something heavy scrape against the floor.
His voice was strained.
“Listen to me. Do not come here.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie.”
He was silent.
Then Victor took the phone again.
“Touching,” he said. “Your husband would rather lose everything than surrender a few documents.”
“What do you want from me?”
“A simple answer.”
“To what?”
“How much is your husband’s life worth?”
My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.
“Whatever you’re planning, leave our baby out of it.”
“Then persuade Dorian to cooperate.”
I forced myself to breathe slowly.
“Victor, you’re not going to get away with this.”
His tone changed.
“You sound just like his father.”
Victor disconnected.
I stood in the middle of my living room, trembling, with Marcus still on the other line.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes.”
“Can you use it?”
“We’re already passing the details to the investigators.”
“Victor has Dorian.”
“I know.”
“Then help him.”
“We’re trying.”
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Finally, Marcus said gently, “Alina, Dorian knew this could happen.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
I looked at the divorce papers resting on my kitchen counter.
The pages were neatly stacked.
My future waiting in an envelope.
Suddenly, I understood how Dorian must have felt over the past six months.
Knowing someone you loved was in danger.
Wanting to control every variable.
Believing fear gave you permission to make terrible decisions.
But there was a difference.
Dorian had tried to protect me by shutting me out.
I would not save him by doing the same.
“Marcus,” I said, “Victor mentioned Dorian’s father.”
“Yes?”
“He said I sounded like him.”
Marcus paused.
“So?”
“Victor keeps talking about what Dorian’s father took from him. What if the shipping records aren’t the only thing he wants?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if he’s trying to force Dorian into something bigger?”
Marcus didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said, “Keep talking.”
Three years before his death, Dorian’s father, Richard Cross, had quietly changed his company’s succession structure.
I’d learned that during our engagement, when Dorian explained why several senior executives resented him.
Richard didn’t simply leave the business to his son.
He created a holding company with voting shares, management agreements, and restrictions designed to prevent anyone from selling important assets without board approval.
Victor had expected to inherit a controlling interest in the organization.
Instead, he received a generous retirement agreement and a lifetime advisory position.
Dorian took control.
Victor never forgave him.
But there was one detail I’d almost forgotten.
Before Richard died, he had told Dorian that a sealed packet of legal documents was stored in the old family office.
The packet contained amendments that could alter the voting rights attached to certain companies.
Dorian believed they were obsolete.
What if Victor didn’t?
I explained everything to Marcus.
He went quiet.
“Alina,” he finally said, “Victor has been trying to locate those amendments for years.”
My pulse raced.
“Why?”
“Because if he can prove the original succession documents were improperly executed, he might challenge control over parts of the holding company.”
I looked toward the window.
“So he doesn’t just want the shipment records.”
“No.”
“He wants Dorian to sign over his voting authority.”
Marcus swore softly.
“That’s exactly what he wants.”
“And if Dorian refuses?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
He didn't need to.
Only afterward, when Dorian was safe enough to tell me, did I learn what had happened inside the building.
At the cold-storage facility, Dorian sat in a metal chair beneath a flickering overhead light.
A bruise darkened his cheek.
His wrists were secured in front of him with plastic restraints.
Victor stood nearby, holding a folder.
“You always were stubborn,” he said.
Dorian stared at him.
“You threatened my wife.”
Victor sighed.
“You inherited your father’s talent for making everything personal.”
“You sent men after a pregnant woman.”
“I sent photographs.”
“You threatened my child.”
Victor’s expression hardened.
“And you exposed decades of family business to outsiders.”
Dorian leaned forward.
“You did that when you started using our companies for your own deals.”
Victor laughed.
“Our companies?”
His voice rose.
“I spent thirty years building this empire. I negotiated every major agreement your father was too proud to touch. I kept his enemies away. I cleaned up his mistakes.”
“And now you think that entitles you to own everyone inside it?”
“It entitles me to what I earned.”
Victor slammed the folder onto the table.
“Sign.”
Dorian looked down.
The documents transferred his controlling voting interest in Cross Maritime Holdings into a trust administered by Victor.
Dorian almost smiled.
“So that’s what this is about.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed.
“Sign the papers, and your wife can live her quiet little life.”
“And if I don’t?”
Victor leaned closer.
“Then your son or daughter grows up without a father.”
Dorian’s expression changed.
For a moment, Victor looked satisfied.
He believed he’d found the one threat Dorian couldn’t withstand.
But Dorian only shook his head.
“You spent thirty years beside my father,” he said quietly, “and you still never understood why he didn’t choose you.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Careful.”
“He knew you could manage money. He knew you understood power.”
Dorian raised his eyes.
“But he also knew you couldn’t bear anyone telling you no.”
Victor struck the table.
“Your father owed me everything!”
“And you would have taken more.”
Victor’s face reddened.
“I made you.”
Dorian shook his head.
“No. You helped make me someone I’m ashamed of.”
Victor froze.
“Is that supposed to frighten me?”
“No.”
Dorian leaned back.
“It’s supposed to explain why I’m done.”
At 1:17 a.m., Marcus called again.
“We found him.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“The facility. Investigators are moving in.”
“Is Dorian alive?”
“As far as we know.”
I closed my eyes.
“As far as you know?”
“Alina, I won’t lie to you.”
I appreciated that.
Even though the truth was unbearable.
I sat beside the kitchen table and stared at the clock.
One minute passed.
Then another.
Then five.
My phone remained silent.
I thought about the night Dorian proposed.
We had been in Wisconsin, staying at a lakeside cabin because I told him I wanted one weekend without business calls.
He woke me before sunrise.
I followed him outside, wrapped in a blanket, annoyed that he was ruining perfectly good sleep.
The lake was silver beneath the morning mist.
He got down on one knee beside the dock.
His hands were shaking.
I laughed.
“Dorian Cross, are you nervous?”
“Terrified.”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll say no.”
I knelt in front of him.
“I love you, idiot.”
He smiled.
Then he asked me to marry him anyway.
I’d said yes before he finished the question.
Sitting in my apartment three years later, I finally understood something.
I didn’t miss the powerful man who could buy me anything.
I missed the man who had once been terrified of losing my love.
At 1:34 a.m., my phone rang.
Marcus again.
I answered before the first ring finished.
“Tell me.”
There was a pause.
Then he said, “Dorian’s alive.”
I collapsed onto the couch.
A sob escaped me.
“Is he hurt?”
“He’s conscious. The medical team is checking him now.”
“And Victor?”
“Taken into custody.”
I covered my face.
Marcus continued.
“Victor tried to leave through a loading entrance when he realized investigators were outside. They stopped him. Dorian’s being brought out.”
“Can I see him?”
“Soon. We’re taking him to the hospital for an examination.”
“I’m coming.”
Marcus hesitated.
May you like
Then he answered, “I’ll send a car. You can meet us there.”
For once, nobody argued.
