Chapter 8 - CLAIRE’S WEDDING DAY TRAP
The date Dominic and Claire were supposed to marry became the day prosecutors unsealed the conspiracy indictment.
The ballroom had already been decorated.
White roses.
Gold chairs.
A seven-tier cake no one wanted.
Dominic ordered the decorations left in place.
Not for celebration.
For the public reading of victim statements and announcement of the Vale restitution foundation.
Mia initially refused to attend.
“That room belonged to her plan.”
“Then we change what it is used for,” Dominic said.
Harper wanted to see the cake.
That decided it.
Former employees entered through the doors once reserved for politicians.
Families of missing workers sat beneath the chandeliers.
Isabella’s brother attended.
Elias’s sister came from Ohio.
Rosa, the accountant’s widow, carried a photograph of her husband.
Dominic stood before them without guards at his side.
“I cannot return the people who died.”
He paused.
“I cannot ask families to separate the crimes I ordered from the crimes Nathan hid behind my name.”
No one moved.
“I will not ask forgiveness today.”
That mattered.
Powerful men often apologized as though victims owed them release.
Dominic offered records.
Money.
Testimony.
Names.
Not emotional rescue.
Claire watched the event from detention television.
Nathan did too.
The wedding cake was divided among children from a shelter funded by seized Vale property.
Harper ate two pieces and became ill.
Mia told Dominic that justice did not remove the consequences of excessive frosting.
For the first time in months, he laughed.
The sound startled everyone.
Especially him.
After the event, Harper wandered toward the empty dance floor.
“Were you going to marry Miss Claire here?”
“Yes.”
“Did you love her?”
“I thought I did.”
“How do you know when it is real?”
Dominic looked toward Mia speaking with Isabella’s family.
“You can disagree without becoming unsafe.”
Harper considered this.
“Mommy disagrees with you.”
“Frequently.”
“Then maybe she loves you.”
Dominic nearly choked.
Mia heard and turned.
“Harper.”
“What?”
“Go find Aunt Rosa.”
Harper skipped away.
Dominic and Mia stood several feet apart.
Neither laughed.
Neither pretended not to understand.
“This is not the time,” Mia said.
“No.”
“You are facing prison.”
“Yes.”
“I work for you.”
“Not anymore.”
He had terminated the employment arrangement and funded independent housing for her and Harper.
Mia remained at the estate only as a protected witness and resident by choice.
“You should not make decisions because a child wants a happy ending,” she said.
“I won’t.”
He looked toward Harper.
“But she reminded me one may exist someday.”
Mia’s expression softened.
May you like
“Someday is allowed.”
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