Chapter 5
Dominic stood tall amidst the scattered debris of the coral sculpture and the wreckage of the diving equipment cases. His custom midnight-blue velvet dinner jacket remained immaculate, untouched by the sudden violence that had just erupted around him. He reached down gently, his terrifying demeanor melting away in an instant as he lifted Maya back into his strong arms.
"Are you hurt, Maya?" Dominic asked softly, his voice a soothing rumble against the little girl's ear.
"She scratched me," Maya whimpered, burying her face into his broad chest, seeking the absolute safety he provided. "She's mean, Grandpa."
"I know, little one," Dominic murmured, gently kissing her forehead and rubbing her back. "She will never touch you again. I promise you that. You are safe."
With his free hand, Dominic turned and reached into the open cloakroom. His long, dark fingers wrapped around the floral padded pregnancy piece that Genevieve had used to fake her condition. Lifting it up by its fastening straps, Dominic stepped out into the open space of the lounge, holding the grotesque artificial belly high for all the guests, bodyguards, and family members to see.
He turned his gaze slowly, locking his cold, dead-calm eyes onto Genevieve, Cameron, and the battered Beatrice who was still struggling to sit up against the padded bench. The atmosphere in the room was so thick with tension that it felt suffocating.
"Genevieve," Dominic said, his voice dropping to a low, measured register. Every single word dropped like heavy lead weights onto the silent floor. "Care to explain this?"
Genevieve stared at the padded fabric hanging from Dominic's hand, her knees finally giving out beneath her. She sank slowly to the floor, her extravagant ocean-blue silk gown pooling around her like dark water. "I... I can explain, Dominic. It was just... I just wanted to secure a place in the family. I wanted to give Cameron what he wanted."
"By faking an heir?" Dominic asked, his tone entirely devoid of warmth, cold as the deep ocean trenches outside the museum walls. "You humiliated my granddaughter to protect a pregnancy that never existed."
"Cameron!" Genevieve cried out, turning her tear-filled, wide eyes toward her boyfriend, desperate for a lifeline. "Cameron, please! I did it for us! I knew you wouldn't marry me unless I was carrying your child! I love you! I just wanted us to be a real family!"
Cameron stood frozen beside her, his white dinner jacket suddenly feeling like a straitjacket as the horrifying truth washed over him. He looked from the fake padded belly in his father's hand to Genevieve's tear-streaked face. He had been played, used as a pawn in a deep, manipulative game orchestrated by the woman he trusted.
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"You lied to me," Cameron choked out, his voice cracking with utter humiliation. "For nine months, you looked me in the eye and lied to me. I painted the nursery. I bought the crib. You let me feel it kick. What the hell was kicking, Genevieve?"
Genevieve looked desperately toward Preston, who was still groaning on the floor near the diving gear, but her brother was in no condition to save her. She was entirely alone.
