Part 4
The flight to Maine took less than an hour, but to Dominic, it felt like an eternity.
He didn't sleep.
He didn't drink the water the flight attendant placed beside him.
He simply stared at the pulsing red dot on the tablet, watching the distance between them shrink with every passing second.
Silas was working furiously in the background, his keyboard clicking like a frantic heartbeat.
“Boss,” Silas said suddenly, his voice tight.
Dominic didn’t turn his head. “What?”
“The Level 9 log. I managed to isolate the exact timestamp of when the biometric token was used.”
Silas stopped typing.
The silence in the cabin became suffocating.
“It was used three days ago. At 2:00 AM. From the terminal in the subterranean vault at your New York residence.”
Dominic’s eyes finally drifted away from the map.
He looked at Silas.
The look was so intense, so entirely devoid of warmth, that Silas felt a cold sweat break out across his neck.
“Go on,” Dominic commanded.
“The surveillance footage for that hallway was wiped,” Silas said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But the backup security grid records the weight sensors in the floorboards as a secondary measure.”
Silas turned the tablet toward Dominic.
“The person who walked into that vault weighed exactly one hundred and eighty-five pounds.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened until the bone showed white beneath his skin.
One hundred and eighty-five pounds.
The exact weight of Marcus Valente.
His cousin.
The man Dominic had placed in charge of the family’s international shipping logistics. The man he had trusted to secure their perimeters while he was away.
“Marcus,” Dominic whispered the name, and it sounded like a death sentence.
“It looks like it,” Silas said quietly. “He didn't just access Meline’s medical records, Boss. He downloaded her entire history. He knows about the pregnancy. And according to his personal travel logs… he boarded a private flight to Bangor, Maine, six hours ago.”
Dominic didn't explode into anger.
He didn't yell.
Instead, a terrifyingly calm smile spread across his lips.
It was the smile he wore right before he dismantled an empire.
Marcus wasn’t looking for Meline to protect her.
Marcus was looking for Meline to use her as leverage.
In the Valente family, a child wasn't just a miracle; it was a vulnerability. An heir. A weapon to be used against the man at the top.
“He thinks he can use my family against me,” Dominic said, his voice smoother than silk, yet sharper than a razor.
He stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his dark shirt.
“Change of plans, Silas.”
“Tell the ground team in Maine to bypass the town perimeter. I want them at Meline’s cottage within ten minutes.”
“If Marcus or any of his men so much as step onto her street, eliminate them.”
Silas nodded instantly, already typing out the high-priority tactical commands. “And you, Boss?”
The jet tilted slightly as it began its steep descent through the thick storm clouds over Maine.
Dominic looked out into the black void.
“I’m going to personally remind my cousin why I am the one sitting in this chair.”
***
In Oakhaven, the storm had finally arrived.
Rain lashed against Meline’s bedroom window, sounding like small rocks throwing themselves against the glass.
She had finally managed to turn her phone back on, but there was no signal.
The storm had knocked out the local tower, or something worse was happening.
She stood in the middle of her small bedroom, a coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders, holding a single canvas bag containing her passport, some cash, and her prenatal vitamins.
She needed to move.
Her instinct for survival, honed by years of living beside Dominic, was screaming at her to run.
She walked into the living room, intending to head for the back door that led to the old wooden pier.
But before her foot could hit the bottom step of the small staircase, the lights in the cottage went completely out.
Total darkness.
The low hum of the refrigerator died.
The only sound left was the roaring wind and the heavy downpour outside.
Then, through the darkness, came a sound that made her breath catch in her throat.
The distinct, heavy thud of a car door closing nearby.
Then another.
Meline pulled back the edge of the faded curtain just a fraction of an inch.
Through the sheets of rain, she saw two large, black SUVs parked haphazardly at the end of her gravel driveway.
Their headlights were turned off, but the amber running lights cast a sinister glow over the wet gravel.
Men were stepping out of the vehicles.
They weren't wearing the standard, polished suits of Dominic’s personal security detail.
These men wore tactical gear, their faces obscured by rain hoods, carrying short-barreled automatic weapons.
Meline’s heart hammered against her chest so hard it felt painful.
“No,” she whispered, backing away from the window. “No, no, no…”
It wasn't Dominic.
Dominic would never send a tactical team into her home like this. If Dominic found her, he would come alone, stepping through the front door like a ghost, demanding her submission with nothing but his presence.
These men were here to take her by force.
She turned toward the kitchen, her hands shaking so violently she dropped her canvas bag.
She left it.
She scrambled toward the back door, unlocking the deadbolt with a loud click that felt echoing and massive in the quiet cottage.
She threw the door open, stepping directly into the freezing rain.
May you like
The wind nearly knocked her off her feet, but she held her stomach with both hands and began to run down the slippery wooden steps toward the beach.
Behind her, she heard the front door of the cottage being kicked off its hinges with a splintering crash.
