Chapter 8 - Dominic’s First Mistake
Lena Ortiz looked ten years older than she had six months ago.
We met in a private room at a rehabilitation clinic outside Manchester because Detective Hayes refused to let me travel anywhere without controlled security.
Lena entered wearing jeans, a gray sweater, and no makeup.
Her hands shook.
When she saw my wheelchair, she stopped.
“Oh God.”
I hated those words.
Not because she meant harm.
Because everyone said them when they saw what the bullet had done.
“Sit down, Lena.”
She did.
Hayes remained by the door.
Tessa sat near the window.
I hadn't asked her to come.
She had insisted.
“You said you'd speak only to me.”
Lena looked at Hayes.
“I didn't know who else I could trust.”
“Start with why you disappeared.”
Tears formed immediately.
“Dominic.”
No hesitation.
“What did he do?”
“He told me I'd be blamed.”
“For what?”
“The document.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“The succession document?”
She nodded.
“He asked me to retrieve the old draft from the legal archive.”
“When?”
“About four months before you were shot.”
“Why?”
“He said you wanted it reconsidered.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“What happened?”
“I downloaded it. Sent it to him.”
“And?”
“A week later he asked me to make formatting changes.”
“What changes?”
“Dates. Names.”
Her voice trembled.
“He added Arya.”
“She wasn't originally named?”
“No. The draft said spouse or designated family trustee. He changed it to her full name.”
I looked at Arthur's copy.
That detail had escaped us.
“What about my signature?”
Lena covered her mouth.
“I didn't do that.”
“I didn't ask whether you did.”
“He had a scanned signature file.”
That didn't surprise me.
My signature existed on thousands of documents.
“He asked me to place it on the final page.”
“Did you?”
She shook her head violently.
“I refused.”
“What happened?”
“He said he'd do it himself.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Her tears fell.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of Dominic?”
“Yes.”
I leaned back.
“Lena, Dominic and I built a company together. He yelled. He pressured people. But people weren't afraid to the point of disappearing.”
“You didn't know him anymore.”
The sentence landed hard.
“What changed?”
“Money.”
“Northstar?”
She stared at me.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“He started borrowing everywhere. Private funds. Overseas investors. He was convinced Pier Seven would make him independent from you.”
“Independent?”
“He hated being second.”
I almost laughed.
Dominic had never acted jealous of me.
Apparently he had simply become good at hiding it.
“He said you treated him like an employee.”
“He was chief operating officer.”
“He wanted ownership.”
“He had shares.”
“Not enough.”
Tessa spoke softly.
“What about Arya?”
Lena's expression became complicated.
“She knew.”
“How much?”
“Most of it.”
“Were they having an affair?”
The question came from me.
I hated myself for asking.
Lena shook her head.
“Not then.”
Not then.
My stomach turned.
“When?”
“I don't know.”
“Lena.”
“I saw them kiss once.”
The room went very quiet.
“When?”
“After the shooting.”
I looked away.
I had expected betrayal.
Financial.
Legal.
Even potentially criminal.
That still hurt differently.
Tessa watched me but said nothing.
“Continue,” I said.
Lena wiped her face.
“A month before the shooting, Dominic asked me to schedule a meeting with Mason Trent.”
“You knew Mason?”
“Security contractor.”
“What was the meeting about?”
“I don't know.”
“Where?”
“Pier Seven.”
“When?”
“Late.”
“Did you attend?”
“No.”
“Then why did your access badge enter Pier Seven the night I was shot?”
Her face collapsed.
Because she had been waiting for that question.
“Dominic called me.”
“What time?”
“A little after eight.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me there was an emergency with shipping manifests and asked me to bring documents from the office.”
“So you went.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see Mason?”
She looked at Detective Hayes.
Then at me.
“Yes.”
Everything inside me went still.
“Where?”
“Near the service road.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking to Dominic.”
“Did they see you?”
“Dominic did.”
“What happened?”
“He got angry. Asked why I came through the loading yard instead of the office entrance.”
“What did Mason do?”
“Nothing.”
“Did he have a weapon?”
“I didn't see one.”
Hayes stepped closer.
“What happened next?”
“Dominic told me to leave.”
“Did you?”
“I went inside first because I still had the documents.”
“Then?”
“I heard a sound.”
Her eyes moved to me.
“The shot?”
She nodded.
“I didn't know it was you.”
I couldn't breathe normally.
“What did Dominic do?”
“He was gone.”
“Mason?”
“Gone.”
“You never told police?”
“I wanted to.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Dominic found me before they interviewed me.”
Hayes's expression sharpened.
“What did he say?”
Lena's hands shook badly now.
“He told me there were records showing I downloaded confidential estate documents. He said your family would think I helped plan everything.”
“That wouldn't prove involvement in a shooting.”
“He said there were emails.”
“Fake?”
“I don't know.”
“Then?”
“He gave me fifty thousand dollars.”
The room went silent.
“To disappear?” Hayes asked.
Lena nodded.
“I hated myself.”
“Where's the money?”
“I never spent most of it.”
“Can you prove he gave it to you?”
“Cash.”
“Any messages?”
“He made me delete them.”
“Backups?”
She looked uncertain.
“My old laptop.”
“Where?”
“In storage.”
Hayes immediately stepped out to make a call.
I stared at Lena.
“You thought I would blame you.”
“I thought everyone would.”
“You left me wondering who did this for six months.”
“I know.”
Anger rose.
Hot.
Immediate.
Tessa shifted slightly beside me.
Not touching me.
Just there.
I forced myself to breathe.
“Why come forward now?”
Lena reached into her bag.
“Because Dominic contacted me yesterday.”
She handed me a printed email.
Sender address anonymous.
But the message contained details only Dominic would know.
Stay away from Boston. You were paid to forget.
Below it:
The Corvino matter ends soon. Don't make yourself part of it again.
My skin went cold.
“He knows we're close,” Hayes said when she returned.
“How?”
“Could be coincidence.”
“No.”
I looked at the message.
“He sent this yesterday. We started looking for Lena four days ago.”
Tessa understood.
“Someone told him.”
“Someone in our group?”
Sal.
Arthur.
Frank.
Daniel.
Tessa.
Hayes.
My stomach tightened.
Or someone had tracked us.
We left through separate exits.
On the return drive, Tessa sat beside me in the accessible van.
Neither of us spoke for twenty minutes.
Finally she said:
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
I looked out the window.
Trees blurred past.
“Did you believe her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She was terrified.”
“People can fake fear.”
“So can fiancées.”
I looked at her.
She immediately regretted it.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
I stared ahead.
“Don't be.”
After another minute:
“I asked Arya to marry me in Santorini.”
Tessa listened.
“I had this whole ridiculous plan. Private terrace. Sunset. Violinist hidden behind some wall because I thought that was romantic.”
“Was it?”
“The violinist played the wrong song.”
She laughed.
“I paid him five thousand dollars and he played a funeral piece.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“What did Arya do?”
“She laughed so hard she cried.”
I smiled despite myself.
“That was real.”
“You think?”
“Yes.”
I looked at her.
“That is the worst part.”
Tessa didn't answer.
“I don't think she was pretending from the beginning. I think somewhere along the way, money became more important. Then fear. Then Dominic. Then whatever else.”
“People can love someone and still do terrible things.”
“That doesn't sound comforting.”
“It wasn't supposed to.”
I watched her profile.
She had no reason to help me anymore.
No paycheck.
No job security.
No family connection.
Yet she sat in a van driving back toward danger because months ago she had refused to let someone cancel my therapy.
Twenty-five dollars an hour.
That was how this had started.
Now no amount of money could explain her staying.
When we reached the warehouse, Frank was waiting.
His expression told me something had happened.
“What?”
He held up a tablet.
“We traced one of the mansion microphones.”
“To whom?”
“Not directly.”
“Frank.”
“The device transmitted to a receiver in a neighboring property.”
“Whose property?”
“A rental.”
“Tenant?”
“Shell company.”
Of course.
“Who owns it?”
“Northstar.”
Dominic.
Frank swiped the screen.
“There's more.”
Security footage from the rental property showed someone entering the house the previous evening.
A familiar figure.
Not Dominic.
Not Arya.
Not anyone I expected.
Arthur leaned closer.
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
The person carrying information from my home to Northstar's surveillance property was wearing a Corvino Holdings security jacket.
And when Frank enlarged the frame, I recognized the face.
My night security supervisor.
Eddie Vale.
A man who had been stationed outside my bedroom almost every night since I came home from the hospital.
Dominic didn't just have cameras.
He had someone ten feet from my door.
And suddenly every secret conversation we had held inside the mansion became suspect.
Including one from two nights earlier.
May you like
When Tessa and I had discussed the exact time and location of my next therapy session.
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