Chapter 8
The departure of Cameron left the donor lounge feeling remarkably empty. Within minutes, the vast, blue-lit room belonged entirely to Dominic, his sleeping granddaughter, and the quiet ghosts of a shattered deception. Dominic remained seated on the padded bench, his custom midnight-blue velvet dinner jacket catching the ethereal glow of the coral exhibits. He gently stroked Maya’s soft, warm brown hair as the little girl drifted into a peaceful sleep against his chest. For all his ruthless reputation across the underworld, in this private sanctuary, Dominic was simply a grandfather protecting his own.
Marcus returned quietly from the subterranean service elevators, stepping carefully over a scattering of artificial foam coral pieces before stopping a respectful distance away. He bowed his head slightly, waiting for permission to speak.
"Report," Dominic commanded softly, careful not to wake the child resting in his arms.
"It is done, Boss," Marcus reported in his deep, gravelly rumble. "Genevieve and her brother have been loaded into an unmarked transport heading south. Their belongings have been incinerated. Beatrice is already on a private flight to Vermont, escorted by two of our best men. She will not be leaving her estate."
"Good. And the museum staff?" Dominic asked, his eyes scanning the empty room.
"Thoroughly debriefed. The security footage of the incident has been permanently scrubbed from all local servers," Marcus assured him. "There is no digital trace of the altercation."
"And the guests?" Dominic asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying an undeniable edge. "Did any of them manage to capture footage before my men secured the network?"
Marcus hesitated for a fraction of a second—a telltale sign that didn't escape Dominic's notice. The older man slowly raised his gaze, locking his cold, ebony eyes onto his head capo.
"Speak, Marcus," Dominic commanded, his tone dropping an octave. "Do not omit anything."
"Most of the guests complied immediately when the jammers were activated, Boss," Marcus admitted cautiously, shifting his weight. "However, one of the junior curators... a young man named Julian... managed to slip out through the loading dock terrace before the perimeter was fully locked down. He had a personal satellite transmitter."
Dominic’s jaw tightened, the well-groomed full beard parting slightly as his teeth clenched. "What did he transmit?"
"A short, five-second clip of Genevieve's padded belly hitting the floor was already broadcasted onto an encrypted dark-web forum before our tech team traced and neutralized his device," Marcus explained, bracing for his boss's wrath.
A dangerous glint flashed in Dominic's eyes. Someone had dared to broadcast his family's humiliation to the wider underworld. This was no longer just an internal family dispute; it was a public challenge.
May you like
"Find him," Dominic said softly, the lethal quiet in his voice chilling the air around them. "Bring him to me before the night is over. I want to know who paid him to watch my house."
"Consider it done," Marcus replied, turning sharply on his heel and disappearing back into the shadows of the marine exhibit.
