Chapter 13
Dominic finally asked why I had been disguised in the first place.
We were alone except for Antonio.
“You suspected me?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
His face tightened.
“So this was a test.”
“Yes.”
“And if Maeve never walked in?”
Interesting question.
I considered it.
“I would have found something else.”
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Truth is uglier when it depends on chance.
Maeve gave me evidence because she happened to choose kindness at the exact moment Dominic chose cruelty.
I hated how much depended on that.
Dominic laughed bitterly.
“So a little girl cost me everything.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You did.”
Silence.
“She only made sure I saw it.”
His jaw tightened.
“My father taught me this.”
“I know.”
“He said you were weak because you wanted people to like you.”
I almost laughed.
“Victor never understood me.”
“He said Sofia made you soft.”
There it was again.
Dead women apparently had a talent for threatening men who confused cruelty with strength.
“Sofia made me look.”
Dominic frowned.
I continued.
“She noticed people I ignored.”
He looked toward the window.
“Do you hate my father?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“I hate what he chose.”
Different thing.
Important thing.
Dominic looked tired suddenly.
Not arrogant.
Just twenty-six.
Too young to have inherited this much rot.
That did not erase anything.
“Can I fix it?”
I stared at him.
“Not by asking me.”
He frowned.
“Then how?”
“You start with the people you hurt.”
His expression changed.
“That’s humiliating.”
“Yes.”
Good.
He wanted punishment that still allowed him to feel important.
A beating.
Exile.
Something dramatic.
What frightened him was standing in front of a baker and admitting he stole from a dying woman’s family because he wanted their corner.
So that was where his consequence began.
Not forgiveness.
Responsibility.
He would repay.
He would face names.
May you like
He would hear what his actions cost.
Then we would see what remained of him after nobody allowed him to call cruelty management anymore.
