Chapter 11 - The Phantom Father
My hands trembled uncontrollably as I stared at the glossy photograph, my mind entirely rejecting the impossible image in front of me.
My father, the hardworking mechanic who supposedly burned to death in a tragic factory accident ten years ago, was standing in a lavish courtyard.
Beside him, looking slightly younger but just as terrifyingly powerful, stood Dominic Vale.
The air in the grand hallway suddenly felt completely unbreathable, the walls of the mansion closing in on me like a beautifully decorated cage.
I did not stop to think or rationalize; I simply marched directly toward Dominic’s private study, the photograph crushing in my sweaty fist.
I kicked the heavy oak door open without knocking, completely startling Dominic, who was in the middle of pouring a glass of expensive bourbon.
"Explain this," I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of absolute rage and profound, paralyzing betrayal as I slammed the photo onto his mahogany desk.
Dominic stared at the crumpled image, his dark eyes widening for a fraction of a second before a cold, hardened mask slipped over his handsome features.
He did not look surprised to see the photograph; he only looked devastated that I was the one holding it.
"Where did you find this, Clara?" he asked, his deep voice dropping to a dangerous, deadly whisper as he scanned the empty hallway behind me.
"A courier dropped it off this morning," I yelled, tears of frustration finally spilling down my cheeks. "You knew him? My whole life has been a miserable struggle because he died, and you knew him?!"
Dominic walked slowly around the desk, his hands raised in a calming gesture, but I took two aggressive steps backward.
"Your father did not die in that factory fire, Clara," Dominic confessed heavily, the absolute truth shattering my reality into a million jagged pieces.
"Arthur Reed was not a mechanic. He was the original architect of the Chicago syndicate, and he was my mentor."
I felt my knees completely buckle, but I grabbed the edge of a leather armchair to keep myself standing, refusing to show weakness.
"He faked his death to protect you and Tyler from a rival cartel that put a five-million-dollar bounty on his bloodline," Dominic explained softly, his eyes filled with genuine sorrow.
"And you just happened to hire his daughter as your nanny?" I laughed bitterly, the sickening realization settling deep in my stomach.
"I hired you because I made a vow to Arthur to keep you safe from the shadows," Dominic admitted, stepping closer despite my hostility.
Before I could scream at him for manipulating my entire existence, a massive, deafening explosion rocked the western wing of the mansion.
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The grand windows of the study shattered inward, raining a thousand pieces of lethal glass across the expensive Persian rug.
Someone had bypassed the million-dollar security system, and they were not here to negotiate.
