Part 10
PART 10
The duffel bag remained on the bed, half-packed, a symbol of a crisis averted but not entirely resolved.
Dominic stood up slowly, the emotional exhaustion visible in the lines around his eyes. He looked at Clara, a tacit agreement passing between them.
The rules had changed.
"Noah," Clara said softly, breaking the quiet. "Why don't you go with Mrs. Hargrove for a small snack? Your father and I need to finish our conversation. I won't leave. My bag stays right here."
Noah looked at the bag, then at Clara, and finally at his father.
Dominic gave a small, genuine nod. "I promise, Noah. She stays."
Reluctantly, the boy let go of Clara’s hand and walked out into the hallway where Mrs. Hargrove was waiting, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She had heard everything.
Once the boy was gone, Dominic closed the bedroom door.
He didn't look like the ruthless billionaire anymore. He looked like a man who had been carrying a mountain on his back for two years.
"You asked what happened that night," Dominic said, his voice barely above a whisper. He walked over to the window, looking out at the darkening sky.
Clara waited, remaining standing near the bed.
"My wife, Eleanor, suffered from a severe, degenerative heart condition," Dominic began, his back still turned to her. "We knew her time was limited, but we tried to make every day normal for Noah. That night... there was an argument."
He paused, his shoulders tensing.
"An argument about what?" Clara asked gently.
"About him," Dominic said, turning around to face her. "I wanted to send him to a specialized school in London. I thought... I thought if Eleanor passed away, I wouldn't be enough for him. I am a businessman, Clara. I know how to manage corporations, not emotions. Eleanor was furious. She said I was trying to outsource my responsibility as a father."
He swallowed hard, his jaw tight.
"During the argument, her heart failed. She collapsed right there in the living room. Noah was hiding behind the armchair. He saw it all. He saw me shouting at her, and then he saw her fall."
The truth was finally out, bleeding into the room.
"Noah thinks his voice caused it," Clara realized aloud, her heart breaking for the little boy. "He thinks the argument—the words spoken—killed his mother. So he chose silence to protect the world from his words."
Dominic closed his eyes, a single tear cutting through his perfect composure.
"And he thinks I killed her," Dominic whispered. "Because I was the one shouting. Every time he looks at me, he sees the man who argued his mother into a grave."
Clara walked across the room, stopping a few feet away from him.
"You didn't kill her, Mr. Vale. And neither did his voice. But by keeping this secret, by locking it away in this cold mansion, you have allowed that lie to become his reality."
Dominic looked at her, his defenses completely gone. "How do I fix it, Clara? Tell me what to do. I’ll spend every dime I have."
"You can't buy this cure, Dominic," Clara said, using his first name for the first time. "You have to earn it. You have to show him that words can heal, not just hurt."
Before Dominic could respond, a sudden commotion arose from downstairs.
The sound of loud, aggressive voices echoed through the grand foyer.
A man's voice, unfamiliar and sharp, was demanding to see Dominic Vale immediately.
May you like
Dominic’s expression instantly shifted back into cold calculation.
"Stay here with Noah," Dominic ordered, his protective instincts kicking in. "The past doesn't just haunt this house. Sometimes, it knocks on the front door."
