Chapter 8 - WHEN THE KING HAD NOTHING
Dominic survived.
The bullet missed his heart by less than an inch.
When he woke after surgery, I was beside him.
He looked at me.
“You really need new reading material.”
I laughed and cried simultaneously.
“You idiot.”
“Professional diagnosis?”
“Yes.”
He reached for my hand.
Samuel Bennett was charged with conspiracy, murder, attempted murder, fraud and dozens of federal crimes.
JANUS was gone.
Or so we believed.
Then federal agents discovered a backup.
Someone had copied part of the archive before deletion.
Adrian.
Dominic confronted him.
Adrian didn't deny it.
“I needed insurance.”
“Against whom?”
“Everyone.”
Dominic looked exhausted.
“You learned nothing.”
Adrian offered him a deal.
Return to Vale Maritime.
They could rebuild the family empire together.
Dominic refused.
Adrian threatened to expose documents proving Victor Vale had bribed officials and ordered violence decades earlier.
Dominic shrugged.
“Do it.”
“You'll destroy our name.”
“Maybe it deserves destroying.”
That shocked everyone.
Dominic publicly released his father's records himself.
Vale Maritime collapsed.
Dominic lost billions.
The newspapers called it suicide.
I called it freedom.
He sold his mansion.
His private jet.
Most of his holdings.
Victims harmed by his father's operations received restitution.
One evening we stood inside his empty Boston penthouse.
“Regret it?” I asked.
Dominic looked around.
“No.”
“Nothing?”
“One thing.”
“What?”
“I should have done it while Gabriel was alive.”
I took his hand.
“You can't change that.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“But I can decide what his death changes.”
Dominic created the Gabriel Vale Foundation.
Its first project provided legal assistance to foster children aging out of the system.
My idea.
His money.
Rebecca entered therapy and moved into a small apartment nearby.
Our relationship remained difficult.
Love doesn't erase twenty years.
But we began.
Coffee.
Walks.
Questions.
Sometimes forgiveness starts smaller than people expect.
Samuel awaited trial.
Adrian disappeared.
And for six peaceful months, Dominic and I almost believed it was over.
Then I arrived home one evening and found my apartment door open.
Nothing stolen.
One object sat on the table.
The Art of War.
Dominic's copy.
Inside was a message.
YOUR STORY ENDS WHERE HIS BEGAN. PIER NINE. MIDNIGHT.
Adrian.
Dominic read the note.
“No.”
“You can't keep saying that.”
“Watch me.”
“We finish this together.”
“Claire—”
“I spent my childhood having other people decide what was best for me.”
He stopped.
“Don't become one of them.”
That hit.
Dominic nodded.
“Together.”
At 11:58 p.m., we arrived at Pier Nine.
The place where Gabriel died.
Adrian waited alone.
In his hand was the JANUS backup.
May you like
And a gun.
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