Chapter 4 - Blood Is Not Loyalty
Julian Vale arrived at 7:12 the next morning.
He walked into the mansion demanding answers.
“What the hell happened?”
Dominic watched from the library.
His younger brother looked exactly as he always did: expensive coat, perfect haircut, controlled confidence.
Julian was thirty-seven.
Six years younger.
Their father had treated Dominic like an heir and Julian like a spare.
Dominic had spent years trying to compensate for that cruelty.
He gave Julian businesses.
Authority.
Money.
Respect.
Maybe he had given him too much.
Julian entered the library.
Vincent closed the door.
“What’s going on?”
Dominic gestured toward a chair.
Julian didn’t sit.
“Arthur’s being held downstairs. Half the staff says there was a fire. Peter disappeared. What happened?”
“My brace was tampered with.”
Julian’s reaction looked genuine.
“What?”
“Repeatedly.”
“By who?”
“Arthur. Peter.”
Julian stared.
“Why?”
“To weaken me before the council vote.”
Julian swore.
Then Dominic said, “They also caused my crash.”
Julian stopped.
That reaction was different.
Too still.
Dominic noticed.
“Surprised?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t look surprised.”
“What am I supposed to look like?”
Dominic stood.
“Who changed my schedule that night?”
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“You called me.”
“I call you every day.”
“You told me to meet you at the warehouse.”
Julian stared at him.
Dominic remembered the evening clearly now.
Julian had called at 10:06.
Emergency.
Shipping problem.
Meet me at the river warehouse.
Dominic changed routes.
Twenty minutes later, another vehicle forced his car into a concrete barrier.
Julian never arrived at the warehouse.
At the hospital, he claimed the problem had resolved before Dominic got there.
Dominic had forgotten that detail beneath pain, surgery, medication, and weeks of recovery.
Now it screamed at him.
“You sent me there.”
Julian shook his head.
“Dominic, stop.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know anyone would attack you.”
That wasn’t a denial.
Vincent heard it too.
Dominic’s voice became almost a whisper.
“Anyone?”
Julian closed his eyes.
He had made the mistake.
Dominic stepped forward.
“What did you know?”
“Nothing.”
“You just said you didn’t know anyone would attack me.”
“I misspoke.”
“No.”
Dominic stared at his brother.
“You confessed.”
Julian sat.
For the first time, he looked tired.
“I wanted you out of the council meeting.”
“Why?”
“Arthur said he needed time.”
“For what?”
“To reorganize votes.”
Dominic laughed without humor.
“So you created a fake emergency.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know about the crash?”
“No.”
“Brace?”
“No.”
“Peter?”
“I knew Arthur paid him for information.”
Vincent cursed.
Dominic felt something worse than anger.
Disappointment.
“You knew someone inside my house was selling information and said nothing.”
“I thought it was business.”
“This is my home.”
Julian looked up.
“You made business and home the same thing years ago.”
The words landed.
Dominic couldn’t entirely deny them.
Julian stood.
“Arthur came to me six months ago. He said you controlled everything. Every company. Every vote. Every decision.”
“And you agreed.”
“I agreed things needed to change.”
“So you helped him.”
“I helped him politically.”
“You helped him manipulate me.”
“I did not authorize violence.”
Dominic studied him.
For years he had believed loyalty meant protecting family from consequences.
Perhaps that was how betrayal grew.
Arthur had exploited Julian’s resentment because Dominic had refused to acknowledge it existed.
“Where is Peter?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Julian hesitated.
Then something shifted.
“There’s an apartment.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Where?”
“West Loop. Arthur used it for private meetings.”
They went immediately.
Dominic stayed behind.
Not because he was afraid.
Because Mercer threatened to physically restrain him if he kept abusing the injured leg.
Ellie sat in the breakfast room drawing while Clare worked nearby.
Dominic passed the doorway.
Ellie looked up.
“Does it hurt?”
He stopped.
“A little.”
She pointed at the brace.
“Still wrong?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Dominic almost continued walking.
Instead, he entered.
Clare immediately straightened.
“You don’t have to do that every time I walk into a room.”
“Sorry.”
Dominic sat across from Ellie.
She was drawing a house.
Three stick figures stood outside.
One large.
One medium.
One tiny.
“Who are they?”
“Mommy. Me.”
“And him?”
Ellie looked at Dominic like the answer was obvious.
“You.”
Clare looked embarrassed.
Dominic didn’t know what to say.
Nobody had included him in a family drawing since childhood.
Ellie returned to coloring.
“Your house is too big.”
Dominic smiled faintly.
“You think?”
“You get lost.”
Clare laughed before catching herself.
Dominic looked at her.
She became serious.
“Sorry.”
“No. She’s right.”
His phone rang.
Vincent.
“We found Peter.”
Dominic stood.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He wants protection.”
“From me?”
“No.”
Vincent paused.
“From Arthur.”
Peter was brought back under guard.
He looked nothing like the composed household manager Dominic had known.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His hands shook.
“I never wanted anyone hurt.”
Dominic sat opposite him.
“You kidnapped Ellie.”
“I was trying to get her away.”
“You locked Angela in a room.”
“Arthur ordered it.”
“You tampered with my brace.”
Peter looked down.
“Yes.”
“Did you cause the crash?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic stared.
Peter broke.
“I swear. Arthur kept everything separated.”
“Then give me something useful.”
Peter looked toward Julian.
Julian had returned with Vincent.
Peter’s face changed.
“There is something.”
“What?”
“Arthur kept records.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Julian spoke.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
Julian looked sick.
“He has a private office beneath the old Vale Social Club.”
Dominic’s father had owned the club thirty years earlier.
It had been closed for a decade.
“Why do you know?”
“Because I met him there.”
Vincent stared at him.
“How many times?”
Julian didn’t answer.
Dominic did not need one.
The search began that afternoon.
Behind a false wall in Arthur’s office, investigators found ledgers, encrypted drives, cash, photographs, and records of payments.
One folder contained Dominic’s rehabilitation schedule.
Another contained photographs of his vehicle.
A third was labeled SUCCESSION.
Inside was a list of council members.
Beside each name was a dollar amount.
But Dominic’s attention stopped on a photograph clipped to the final page.
It showed Dominic leaving a restaurant the night of the crash.
The image had been taken from across the street.
On the back, someone had written:
ROUTE CONFIRMED BY J.V.
Dominic stared at the initials.
Julian Vale.
His brother.
Julian looked at the photograph.
His face drained.
“I didn’t write that.”
Dominic said nothing.
“I swear.”
Vincent picked up another document.
Then another.
“Boss.”
Dominic looked.
Bank transfers.
Payments from Arthur’s holding company.
The recipient account belonged to Julian.
$250,000.
Then $300,000.
Then $500,000.
Julian stepped backward.
“No.”
Dominic’s heart hardened.
Julian shook his head.
“I never received that money.”
The evidence said otherwise.
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And for the first time, Dominic faced a possibility more painful than his injured leg.
His own brother might have sold his life for a million dollars.
