Chapter 3 - The Enemy Inside the House
Angela Pierce arrived in Dominic’s study shortly after midnight wrapped in a blanket.
She looked exhausted.
Dr. Mercer checked her first.
No serious injuries.
No need for emergency hospitalization.
Only then did Dominic allow questions.
Angela sat across from him.
Vincent remained near the door.
Clare had taken Ellie upstairs again.
Arthur had been escorted to a separate sitting room under guard.
Dominic folded his hands.
“Tell me everything.”
Angela stared at the floor.
“Three weeks ago, someone asked me about your recovery schedule.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Angela.”
She looked up.
“Peter Sloan.”
Vincent stiffened.
Dominic felt something far worse.
Peter Sloan had managed Dominic’s household for twelve years.
He knew every employee.
Every alarm.
Every guest schedule.
Every service entrance.
He had been there when Dominic buried his father.
He had arranged Dominic’s mother’s funeral.
He had visited the hospital after the crash.
“Continue.”
Angela swallowed.
“He asked whether adjusting the brace could make your recovery slower.”
Mercer stepped forward.
“And you answered?”
“I thought it was a medical question. I said an incorrect fit could increase pain.”
“What happened next?”
“He offered me money.”
Dominic’s expression remained unchanged.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
Angela began crying quietly.
“I told him he was insane.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“He threatened my brother.”
Vincent frowned.
“Your brother?”
“He has gambling debt.”
Dominic understood.
Peter hadn’t needed Angela’s cooperation.
Only her silence.
“What did Peter do?”
“He started changing the brace after sessions.”
“How?”
“Small adjustments. Nothing obvious.”
Mercer’s face hardened.
“Enough to aggravate the nerve.”
Angela nodded.
“He told me nobody would notice.”
Dominic remembered Ellie’s words.
Just enough.
“Yesterday?”
Angela wiped her eyes.
“Arthur came.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted the brace tightened more.”
Arthur.
There it was.
Not suspicion.
Not implication.
A witness.
Dominic’s voice became quieter.
“And you objected.”
“Yes.”
“What did Arthur say?”
“That the council vote was that night and they needed Dominic to look weak.”
Vincent looked toward Dominic.
Angela continued.
“I told him I was done staying quiet. I said I was going to tell Dr. Mercer.”
“What happened?”
“Peter came behind me.”
Her hands began trembling.
“He took my phone. They put me in the maintenance room.”
“Why leave you alive?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic did.
Because murder created questions.
A frightened employee could be discredited.
Or paid.
Or threatened again.
“What about the cameras?”
“Peter said he handled them.”
Vincent immediately left the room.
Dominic stared at Angela.
“Did Arthur personally touch the brace?”
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
“He reversed the retaining plate himself.”
Mercer cursed.
Dominic felt something inside him become perfectly still.
For eleven weeks he had fought his own body.
For three weeks he had believed he was losing.
But the weakness wasn’t proof of failure.
It was evidence of betrayal.
He stood.
“Rest.”
Angela stared at him.
“What happens to me?”
“You tell the truth to the proper authorities.”
“And my brother?”
“We’ll make sure he’s safe while this is investigated.”
She started crying again.
“Thank you.”
Dominic left.
Vincent met him in the hallway.
“Peter’s gone.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Lockdown?”
“He used an emergency override.”
Dominic stared at him.
“Only three people have that code.”
“You. Me. Peter.”
“Vehicle?”
“None missing.”
“So he’s still nearby.”
“Probably.”
Dominic looked upstairs.
“Clare and Ellie.”
“Already moving them.”
“Where?”
“Safe room.”
Dominic nodded.
Then an alarm sounded.
Not the main security alarm.
Fire.
Vincent cursed.
Smoke began rolling from the service corridor.
Dominic’s first thought wasn’t the council.
It wasn’t Arthur.
It wasn’t Peter.
It was Ellie.
He moved.
Pain shot through his leg.
He kept going.
Vincent grabbed his arm.
“Boss.”
“Upstairs.”
“My men have them.”
“I’m going.”
They reached the staircase as staff hurried toward exits.
Smoke thickened.
Dominic climbed.
One step.
Two.
Three.
His recovering leg screamed.
He continued.
Halfway up, a security officer appeared.
“Safe room’s empty.”
Dominic stopped.
“What?”
“Clare and the girl weren’t there.”
Vincent grabbed his radio.
“Find them.”
Dominic turned toward the guest corridor.
“Ellie!”
No answer.
Then he heard crying.
Not Ellie.
Clare.
“Help!”
Dominic moved toward the sound.
They found Clare near the laundry elevator.
She was pounding against a closed service door.
“He took her!”
Dominic felt the world narrow.
“Who?”
“Peter.”
Vincent immediately radioed the team.
Clare grabbed Dominic’s sleeve.
“He said there was a fire and told us to follow him. Then he grabbed Ellie.”
“Where?”
“Service elevator.”
Dominic looked at Vincent.
“Basement.”
They moved.
The elevator was disabled.
They took the stairs.
Every step sent pain through Dominic’s leg, but rage carried him downward.
The basement corridor was filled with haze.
Vincent’s men spread out.
Then Dominic heard something.
Click.
Click.
Click.
A tiny wooden latch toy.
He followed the sound.
“Ellie?”
Click.
Click.
A storage door.
Vincent opened it.
Ellie sat inside alone.
Her face was wet with tears, but she was unharmed.
Dominic crouched.
“Where’s Peter?”
She pointed toward another corridor.
“He said stay.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“And you didn’t?”
She held up her toy.
“I made noise.”
Smart girl.
Clare reached them seconds later and swept Ellie into her arms.
Dominic turned toward Vincent.
“Find Peter.”
They found the service exit open.
Outside, rain poured across the loading drive.
Peter was gone.
But he had left something behind.
His phone.
Vincent brought it upstairs.
Most messages had been deleted.
One had not.
It was scheduled to erase automatically but hadn’t yet.
A message from Arthur.
GET THE CHILD OUT BEFORE SHE TALKS AGAIN.
Dominic read it twice.
Then he walked into the sitting room where Arthur waited.
Arthur looked up.
Dominic placed the phone on the table.
Arthur saw the message.
His expression collapsed.
“You kidnapped a four-year-old.”
“I didn’t.”
“You ordered Peter to remove her.”
“I told him to get her away from the house.”
“Without her mother?”
Arthur stood.
“This has gotten out of control.”
“No.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“It became clear.”
Arthur looked at the brace.
Then at Dominic.
“You think this is about your chair?”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Arthur smiled bitterly.
“You still don’t understand.”
“Explain.”
“The accident.”
Silence.
“What about it?”
Arthur laughed.
“You really believed Lower Wacker was random?”
Dominic stopped breathing for half a second.
Vincent stepped forward.
Arthur continued.
“The brace was insurance.”
Dominic’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Insurance against what?”
“You surviving the first attempt.”
Vincent grabbed Arthur.
Dominic didn’t stop him.
Arthur’s smile vanished.
Dominic stared at the man who had sat at his father’s table for decades.
“The crash was deliberate?”
Arthur said nothing.
Dominic moved closer.
“Answer me.”
Arthur looked into his eyes.
“Yes.”
The word changed everything.
Dominic had spent eleven weeks trying to recover from an accident.
There had never been an accident.
Someone had wanted him injured—or dead.
The brace had merely continued what the crash failed to accomplish.
But Arthur’s next words were worse.
“You should ask yourself why your car was on Lower Wacker that night.”
Dominic stared at him.
“I was going home.”
“No.”
Arthur smiled.
“You were sent there.”
“By whom?”
Arthur leaned closer.
“Ask the person who changed your schedule.”
Dominic turned toward Vincent.
Only three people had known Dominic’s route that evening.
Vincent.
Peter.
And Dominic’s younger brother, Julian.
For the first time that night, Dominic understood that Arthur might not be the architect.
May you like
He might only be another piece.
And the person at the center of the conspiracy could carry the same last name as Dominic.
