Chapter 15 - The Sins of the Father
By the time we returned to the estate, the sun was rising over the skyline, casting long, dramatic shadows across the city. Marcus had provided us with full architectural blueprints of the abandoned ironworks. It was a massive, sprawling industrial complex built during the early 1900s, heavily fortified with thick brick walls and underground tunnels.
I sat in my office, pouring over the blueprints, trying to formulate a siege strategy. It was a suicide mission. Dominic had supposedly garrisoned over a hundred heavily armed loyalists inside the compound. A direct frontal assault would be a slaughter.
The encrypted phone on my desk suddenly buzzed. The caller ID was completely masked, heavily routed through a dozen international servers. I pressed the speaker button, signaling Clara and Marcus to stay perfectly silent.
“Hello, Bennett,” a deep, gravelly voice echoed through the room.
My breath caught in my throat. It had been twenty years, but the chilling cadence of my father’s voice was instantly recognizable. It brought back a flood of terrifying childhood memories—the smell of cigar smoke, the sound of his heavy footsteps in the halls, the screams of the men he tortured in the basement.
“You’re a coward, Dominic,” I said, forcing my voice to remain perfectly steady. “Hiding in the shadows, hiring mercenaries to do your dirty work.”
My father chuckled darkly. “I’ve been watching you, Bennett. You’ve grown into a capable killer. But you are too sentimental. You care too much about the people around you. That is a fatal weakness.”
“It’s a strength,” I countered. “It’s why my men actually fight for me, instead of just fearing me.”
“Your mother was sentimental,” Dominic said, his tone turning dripping with venom. “And look where it got her. Did she ever tell you why I had to disappear? Why I had to stage that bombing?”
I remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of asking.
“Twenty years ago, the federal government had built a RICO case against our syndicate that was airtight,” Dominic explained coldly. “They had witnesses, ledgers, and wiretaps. The ship was sinking. So, I staged my own death to evade the indictment. I left all the evidence pointing to Eleanor and Arthur Reed. They were supposed to take the fall and rot in a federal maximum-security prison while I rebuilt the empire abroad.”
I gripped the edge of my desk so hard the wood splintered beneath my fingers. He hadn't just abandoned my mother; he had actively tried to frame her and destroy her life to save his own skin.
“But Arthur found out,” Dominic continued, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “He helped your mother destroy the evidence before the feds raided the house, ruining my perfect scapegoat. I had to stay in the shadows for two decades, waiting for the statute of limitations to expire, watching you sit in my chair.”
“I’m going to bury you, old man,” I promised, my voice vibrating with pure, unfiltered rage. “And this time, I’m going to make sure the casket isn't filled with bricks.”
May you like
“Come and try, my boy,” Dominic taunted. “I’ll be waiting for you at the ironworks. Bring the maid. I want to watch her bleed.”
The line went dead. I looked up at Clara, my heart pounding with a deadly resolve. We weren't just going to defeat him; we were going to completely obliterate his legacy.
