Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN HE THOUGHT HE KNEW
By seven in the morning, Dominic was hidden in the unused gatekeeper’s cottage at the north edge of the estate.
Only Emma, his security chief Marcus Vale, and one pilot knew he had returned.
Marcus stood near the window.
“You want me to pull Miss Harrington’s records?”
“Everything.”
“Financials?”
“Everything.”
“Family?”
“Especially family.”
Marcus nodded.
Dominic poured coffee but didn’t drink it.
His phone showed twelve missed calls from Brooke.
He had intentionally ignored them.
Then a message arrived.
MISS YOU. CAN’T WAIT TO BE YOUR WIFE.
Dominic stared at it.
Three years.
He had known Brooke for three years.
She had stood beside him at his mother’s funeral.
She had held his hand when Catherine’s coffin was lowered.
She had cried harder than anyone.
At least he had thought she was crying.
“You okay?” Marcus asked.
“No.”
It was a rare answer.
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“You loved her.”
Dominic looked up.
“Still trying to figure out whether I loved her or the person she designed for me.”
His phone rang.
Natalie.
He answered.
“You’re awake early.”
His sister sounded tired.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“You still in London?”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Yeah.”
The lie hurt.
Natalie was quiet.
Then, “When are you coming home?”
“Monday.”
Another silence.
“I might not be here.”
Dominic’s grip tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Natalie.”
“I don’t want to ruin your wedding.”
“You’re my sister.”
“And she’s going to be your wife.”
His stomach turned.
“What happened?”
“She thinks Noah and I need our own space.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
That one word broke something inside him.
“Then you’re staying.”
“Dominic—”
“You’re staying.”
His voice softened.
“Mom asked me to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“I know.”
He stared at the dark trees outside.
“But Noah does.”
Natalie began crying quietly.
Dominic hated himself for not walking through the door and holding her.
“I’ll fix this,” he said.
“How?”
He looked toward Marcus.
“Trust me.”
After the call, Marcus’s laptop chimed.
“That was fast.”
“What?”
Marcus turned the screen.
Brooke Harrington had $312,000 in personal debt.
Three maxed-out credit lines.
A secret loan secured against jewelry she did not legally own.
And six months earlier, her brother Martin had lost almost two million dollars in a failed property development.
Dominic’s face went still.
Marcus scrolled.
“There’s more.”
Martin had recently formed a company.
Eastern Heritage Holdings LLC.
Dominic read the name twice.
“Eastern.”
Marcus nodded.
“Registered address is a mailbox in Providence.”
“What does it own?”
“Nothing yet.”
Dominic’s phone buzzed.
Emma.
She had sent a photo.
Brooke was standing outside Catherine Mercer’s locked study.
Holding a ring of keys.
Under the picture, Emma had typed one sentence:
SHE’S LOOKING FOR SOMETHING.
Dominic stood.
Marcus grabbed his coat.
“You staying hidden?”
Dominic’s eyes went cold.
“For now.”
“Where are we going?”
“Into my mother’s study.”
Marcus frowned.
“Brooke’s already there.”
May you like
Dominic reached for the cottage door.
“Exactly.”
