Chapter 5 - The Night Fay Disappeared
Dominic returned to the estate expecting war.
Instead, he found silence.
The gates were open.
No bodies.
No shattered windows.
No chaos.
That frightened him more.
Carmine’s men swept the property.
The household staff had been locked inside the kitchen pantry.
Mrs. Gable was gone.
Only one thing remained on Dominic’s desk.
A phone.
It rang.
Dominic answered.
“DeLuca.”
“Still clever, Dominic.”
Salvatore’s voice sounded almost friendly.
“You touch her, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Roll over here?”
Fay watched Dominic’s expression change.
The cruelty of the insult was deliberate.
Dominic tightened his grip on the phone.
Salvatore laughed softly.
“I hear you’ve hired yourself a little miracle worker.”
Dominic’s eyes moved toward Fay.
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with it.”
“You want the flash drive.”
“And the girl.”
“No.”
“Then Mrs. Gable becomes your problem.”
Fay stepped forward.
Dominic held up a hand.
“Where?”
“A location will be sent.”
The call ended.
Fay immediately spoke.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“She was taken because of me.”
“She was taken because of me.”
“The message asked for me.”
“And therefore you’re not going.”
“Dominic—”
“No.”
Fay stared.
Then her voice softened.
“What if it were me?”
He went still.
“If DeLuca had me and demanded Mrs. Gable come alone, what would you tell her?”
Dominic said nothing.
“That’s what I thought.”
He turned toward Carmine.
“Secure Fay upstairs.”
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t.”
“Carmine.”
The security chief hesitated.
“Boss—”
“Now.”
Fay stepped backward.
“You’re locking me up?”
“I’m keeping you alive.”
“You don’t get to decide everything for me!”
“Yes, I do when your decision is suicide.”
She looked hurt.
That hurt him more than anger would have.
Carmine escorted her upstairs.
Dominic spent the next hour building a rescue plan.
The location arrived.
An abandoned hotel on the south side.
Three entrances.
Bad sight lines.
Obvious trap.
Perfect.
At eight, Carmine returned.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Fay’s gone.”
Dominic became completely still.
“What do you mean gone?”
“Bathroom window.”
“Third floor?”
“Service balcony.”
Dominic shut his eyes.
Of course.
Of course she had climbed out.
“Track her phone.”
“She left it.”
Dominic slammed his fist into the desk.
“Find her!”
Fay had already reached the hotel.
She had taken Mrs. Gable’s old sedan from the servants’ parking lot.
Her hands shook as she entered.
Salvatore DeLuca waited in the lobby.
He was older than Dominic.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
The appearance of a banker.
Nothing about him looked monstrous.
That made him worse.
“You look like Michael,” he said.
Fay stopped.
“You knew my father?”
“Very well.”
“Where is Mrs. Gable?”
“Safe.”
“Let me see her.”
Salvatore gestured.
Mrs. Gable was brought from a side room.
Alive.
Furious.
“Fay Willis, if we survive this I am personally firing you.”
Fay nearly cried with relief.
Salvatore smiled.
“The drive.”
“I don’t have it.”
His smile faded.
“You came without it?”
“Dominic wouldn’t give it to me.”
“Then you are useless.”
“Not entirely.”
She held up the brass key.
Salvatore’s eyes changed.
“You know what this opens.”
“I know it mattered enough for you to tear apart my apartment.”
Salvatore stepped closer.
“Where is the original ledger?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
He studied her.
“Michael was stubborn too.”
Fay’s heart pounded.
“What happened to him?”
Salvatore smiled slightly.
“His illness happened.”
Something about the way he said it chilled her.
“What does that mean?”
“Your father should have handed over the ledger.”
“He died from cancer.”
Salvatore said nothing.
Fay stared.
“Did you hurt my father?”
Before he could answer, lights outside flooded the lobby.
Dominic.
Cars surrounded the hotel.
Salvatore cursed.
Fay almost smiled.
“He found me.”
“He always was persistent.”
Dominic entered minutes later with Carmine.
He had the flash drive.
His wheelchair stopped twenty feet from Salvatore.
“Let them go.”
Salvatore looked at Dominic’s chair.
“I warned your father you were too sentimental.”
Dominic’s voice stayed calm.
“My father wasn’t sentimental. He simply knew what you were.”
“And what is that?”
“A coward who uses innocent people because he can’t defeat men directly.”
Salvatore’s face changed.
Good.
Dominic wanted him angry.
Wanted him focused on him.
Not Fay.
“The drive,” Salvatore said.
Dominic held it up.
“Mrs. Gable first.”
Salvatore nodded.
She was released.
Carmine pulled her away.
“Fay.”
Salvatore placed a hand around Fay’s arm.
“No.”
Dominic’s expression darkened.
“She leaves too.”
“After I verify the drive.”
“You don’t set terms.”
Salvatore laughed.
“You’re in a chair, Dominic.”
Silence.
Fay saw the flash of pain in Dominic’s face.
Not because of the insult.
Because six months ago Salvatore had tried to make that chair permanent.
Dominic leaned forward.
“You’re right.”
He placed his hands on the armrests.
Then he did something Fay had not expected.
He pushed.
His arms shook violently.
His right leg took some weight.
His left barely responded.
Carmine moved instinctively.
Dominic snapped:
“Don’t.”
He rose halfway.
Salvatore’s smile vanished.
Dominic stood for three seconds.
Three impossible seconds.
Then his knees gave.
Carmine caught him and returned him to the chair.
But the message had already been delivered.
Dominic looked Salvatore directly in the eyes.
“You failed.”
Salvatore’s face twisted.
And that was when police sirens erupted outside.
Salvatore turned.
Dominic smiled.
“The drive?”
He tossed it onto the floor.
“A copy.”
Salvatore’s eyes widened.
“The original went to federal investigators forty minutes ago.”
Everything happened at once.
Police entered.
Salvatore’s men surrendered.
Fay pulled free.
Carmine moved toward her.
Salvatore tried to escape through the service corridor.
He did not get far.
By midnight, he was in custody.
Mrs. Gable was safe.
Fay sat outside the hospital beside Dominic.
Doctors had insisted on examining him after his attempt to stand.
He refused until Fay threatened to tell Elena.
“You climbed out a third-floor window,” he said.
“Second-floor balcony after the first ledge.”
“That does not improve the story.”
“You tried to stand during a hostage negotiation.”
“It was strategically effective.”
“It was stupid.”
Dominic looked at her.
“So was going there alone.”
She looked away.
“I couldn’t let Mrs. Gable suffer because of me.”
“And I couldn’t let you.”
Silence.
Fay’s eyes slowly returned to his.
Dominic’s voice softened.
“When Carmine said you were gone…”
He stopped.
She waited.
“I haven’t been that afraid since the crash.”
Her breath caught.
Dominic looked down.
“I thought I’d lost you.”
Fay’s eyes filled.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Fay reached for his hand.
He let her take it.
No boss.
No employee.
No caretaker.
Just Dominic and Fay.
He lifted her hand toward his lips.
Then stopped.
“Tell me to stop.”
Fay whispered:
“I’m not telling you to stop.”
He kissed her fingers.
Gentle.
Almost reverent.
And Fay realized the most dangerous thing about Dominic Corso had never been his temper.
It was how easily she had begun to care about him.
The following morning, however, everything changed again.
Carmine arrived at the hospital carrying documents recovered from DeLuca’s private safe.
One file belonged to Michael Willis.
Another belonged to Dominic.
Inside Dominic’s file was the original report from his crash.
Not the report the police had received.
The real one.
Carmine laid it on the table.
“The brake line wasn’t the only thing DeLuca altered.”
Dominic read.
His face went pale.
“What?”
Fay asked.
He looked up.
“The doctors were paid.”
“What doctors?”
“My original surgical team.”
Fay stared.
Carmine continued.
“DeLuca paid someone to falsify part of Dominic’s prognosis.”
Fay’s heartbeat quickened.
“What does that mean?”
Dominic read the final line again.
Then again.
His hands started shaking.
The original neurologist’s assessment said something he had never been told.
Significant probability of motor recovery with immediate intensive rehabilitation.
Dominic looked at his legs.
Six months.
Six months of believing recovery was nearly impossible.
Six months of avoiding therapy.
Six months Salvatore DeLuca had stolen from him.
And suddenly his wheelchair no longer represented what Dominic could never escape.
May you like
It represented a lie.
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