Chapter 3
Dominic called Daniel a liar.
Too fast.
Too loud.
I let him keep talking because guilty men often build the rope themselves.
He said Elise Vance had been desperate. Said she came to the club privately. Said she agreed to whatever terms were necessary because Daniel was too proud to ask for help.
Daniel’s face changed.
Not anger.
Pain.
“Elise never came here.”
Dominic laughed.
“She did.”
“How would you know?”
“I met her.”
Daniel stepped forward.
I raised one hand.
He stopped.
I looked at Dominic.
“When?”
He hesitated.
“Last March.”
Daniel’s voice became quiet.
“Elise couldn’t walk last March.”
The lobby went silent.
Dominic’s face emptied.
Daniel continued.
“She was in hospice care at home.”
That lie died quickly.
I turned toward Antonio, one of my senior men who had already arrived after receiving my message.
“Bring me every private agreement Dominic signed in the last eighteen months.”
Dominic immediately objected.
“Those records aren’t here.”
Interesting.
“Where are they?”
He stopped.
I smiled without warmth.
“You manage a club worth millions and keep private debt papers somewhere else?”
“They’re legitimate.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Daniel looked exhausted.
Maeve reappeared holding half a cookie.
One bodyguard followed her apologetically.
“She wanted her father.”
Daniel immediately knelt beside her.
Maeve offered him half.
He took it.
That small act told me more about the Vance family than any ledger could.
They shared because they had learned to survive by sharing.
Dominic watched them with irritation.
Not guilt.
Then Maeve looked at him.
“Why did you take Daddy’s oven?”
Everybody turned.
Daniel closed his eyes.
I looked at him.
“What oven?”
He shook his head.
“Rocco—”
“What oven?”
Dominic answered too quickly.
“Collateral.”
There it was.
He had taken the bakery’s industrial oven two weeks earlier after Daniel missed a payment.
The bakery was surviving on one small backup oven.
That explained why Maeve’s bag had only a few rolls.
Dominic had not merely collected money.
He had been slowly dismantling the business while keeping the debt alive.
I looked at my nephew.
“You didn’t want repayment.”
His jaw tightened.
May you like
I understood.
“You wanted the bakery.”
