Chapter 8
Hattie escaped before midnight.
Not from the estate.
From the room where Dominic had ordered her watched.
The guard outside was unconscious.
Alive.
A glass of wine untouched beside him.
No visible injury.
Hattie’s shoes were gone.
So was her coat.
The north service gate stood open.
Michael stared at the security monitor.
“I gave her that route.”
Dominic looked at him.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“For your affair.”
“Yes.”
Dominic almost laughed.
Betrayal created practical infrastructure.
Useful later.
Peter Shaw entered.
“Vehicle missing.”
“Which?”
“Old sedan from staff parking.”
“Track?”
“No device.”
Dominic looked toward the north road.
“Silas.”
Michael nodded.
“She went to him.”
Donna appeared at the doorway.
Dominic frowned.
“You should be upstairs.”
“My house is being emptied of liars. I wanted to watch.”
Even now.
Sharp.
Donna looked at Michael.
“Did you love her?”
He did not answer.
She nodded.
“That means yes.”
Michael stared.
Donna continued.
“She did not love you enough to stay.”
“Mother.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“You helped her hurt me.”
Michael’s face broke.
“I know.”
“You tell yourself Silas shaped you.”
“Yes.”
“Hattie seduced you.”
He looked away.
“Your father ignored you.”
Silence.
“All true.”
Donna’s voice hardened.
“And still you chose.”
Michael looked at her.
That was the real punishment.
Responsibility.
Not excuses.
“I’m sorry.”
Donna slapped him.
Not hard.
Her hand trembled.
Michael did not move.
“You don’t get forgiveness because you finally learned the right words.”
She turned away.
Dominic watched.
No one spoke.
Then Elena entered carrying something wrapped in cloth.
“Found in Hattie’s wardrobe.”
Inside lay a black leather collar.
Not a dog collar.
Too large.
Human.
Michael stared.
Dominic lifted it.
Same shepherd’s knot.
A small tag hung from one side.
This one carried a date.
Twenty-six years earlier.
The night Richard died.
Donna covered her mouth.
Elena whispered:
“Oh God.”
Dominic turned the tag.
On the reverse:
D.C.
Dominic Coleman.
His initials.
Michael stepped backward.
“This was made for you.”
Dominic felt something old and cold.
Silas had prepared a collar with Dominic’s initials twenty-six years ago.
Richard had died before it could be used.
“What did he plan?” Michael asked.
Donna whispered:
“To take you.”
“Why?”
“Because Adrian refused him.”
Silence.
Silas lost the first son he raised.
So he chose the second.
Richard discovered it.
The hunting-lodge meeting became clearer.
Silas came not only to fight Richard.
He came to claim Dominic.
Richard’s dying warning.
Don’t let Silas take the second boy.
Dominic had spent his life believing he inherited because his father trusted him.
Maybe he inherited because Richard died preventing another man from owning him.
That realization did not make Richard good.
It made him complicated.
Peter’s phone vibrated.
He listened.
Then looked at Dominic.
“We found the sedan.”
“Where?”
“Old Coleman chapel.”
“Hattie?”
“No.”
“What?”
“Blood on the driver’s seat.”
Michael moved immediately.
Dominic stopped him.
“Wait.”
“My—”
He almost said wife.
Not his.
Never had been.
“Hattie.”
Dominic looked at him.
“You go because you want her back?”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“I go because this happened because of me.”
Better answer.
They took two vehicles.
At the chapel, the sedan sat empty.
Blood on the seat.
Not much.
The chapel doors were open.
Inside, one candle burned.
Hattie knelt before the altar.
Hands tied.
Mouth free.
Alive.
Michael ran toward her.
Dominic stopped him with one arm.
“Look.”
Around Hattie’s neck was the black collar.
Not Dominic’s.
Another.
Her own initials engraved into the tag.
H.C.
Hattie looked at Dominic.
Tears filled her eyes.
“He knows you came.”
“Silas?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Dominic frowned.
“Who?”
May you like
Hattie whispered:
“Adrian.”
