Chapter 7
At breakfast, Dominic drank the coffee Marcus poured.
He asked about Marcus’s mother.
He discussed schedules.
He listened while Marcus carefully argued that Vivian should be removed from the estate permanently.
“She’s becoming a problem,” Marcus said.
Dominic nodded.
“You’re right.”
Marcus relaxed.
“We should settle it soon.”
“This week.”
That night Dominic brought three people into the estate through an entrance Marcus did not know existed.
A retired security consultant named Jack Donovan.
An independent forensic accountant named Robert Hayes.
And digital investigator Nina Mercer, who had once helped Dominic identify an employee stealing from one of his legitimate companies.
Dominic placed every piece of evidence on the desk.
“Start over.”
Nina looked at him.
“From where?”
“From before we decided who was guilty.”
Four days later, they returned with the truth.
The missing camera footage had not vanished because of a technical failure.
It had been manually deleted.
Only three senior accounts could erase archived security video.
Dominic’s.
The security administrator’s.
And Marcus Bell’s.
Another camera showed Marcus entering the server room minutes before the footage disappeared.
The poison was concentrated only in the cake’s top layer.
It had been applied after Vivian completed the cake.
The receipt found in her room carried her fingerprints because she had purchased the ingredient.
But it also carried a partially wiped print.
Marcus’s.
Then came Tyler Reed.
Two weeks before the birthday, forty-two thousand dollars had appeared in an account paying for his mother’s cancer treatment.
The money had been moved through several companies.
Robert traced the final source to a business secretly controlled by Marcus.
Dominic stared at the report.
“Tyler took money to lie.”
Robert nodded.
“His mother really is sick.”
Dominic closed his eyes briefly.
Fear had purchased a frightened nineteen-year-old.
It had purchased missing footage.
It had purchased a false story.
But it had not been able to purchase a three-year-old’s memory.
The motive emerged next.
For eleven years, Marcus had helped Dominic strengthen the Moretti organization.
He had taken risks.
He had saved Dominic’s life.
He had become indispensable.
And somewhere along the way, loyalty had curdled into entitlement.
Marcus no longer believed he had helped build Dominic’s empire.
He believed half of it belonged to him.
Yet Dominic remained the boss.
And after Dominic, everything would eventually pass to Ethan.
Marcus could tolerate standing beside a man he considered his equal.
He could not tolerate one day standing behind that man’s child.
If Ethan died from a cake Vivian had prepared, Marcus would eliminate the heir and destroy the woman most likely to keep Dominic emotionally stable.
A grieving Dominic could then be weakened, isolated, or eventually removed.
Marcus would inherit the loyalty network he believed he deserved.
Dominic sat alone for hours after the investigators left.
The most painful evidence was not the fingerprint.
It was not the money.
It was memory.
Marcus holding baby Ethan when he came home from the hospital.
Marcus laughing at Christmas.
Marcus standing beside Dominic at his wife’s funeral.
Marcus nearly dying for him.
Dominic had spent his life expecting betrayal from enemies.
He had never understood that betrayal was powerful precisely because it usually entered the house wearing a familiar face.
He went to Vivian’s room that night.
She stood when he entered.
“I know,” he said.
She searched his face.
“Know what?”
“That you didn’t do it.”
Her shoulders lowered.
Not with relief.
With exhaustion.
“Who?”
Dominic swallowed.
“Marcus.”
Vivian closed her eyes.
Then she whispered, “Oh, Dominic.”
He had expected anger.
The pity hurt more.
“I’m going to fix this.”
“You can clear my name.”
“I will.”
“You can punish him.”
“I will.”
“But you can’t fix what already happened between us.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I know.”
She stepped closer.
“I understood why you protected Ethan. I even respected it. But you let someone else tell you who I was while I stood ten feet away telling you myself.”
There was no defense.
So Dominic did not insult her with one.
“I’m sorry.”
Vivian nodded sadly.
“I believe you.”
May you like
But she did not touch him.
Dominic spent the next week pretending nothing had changed.
