Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Glass
Dominic flipped open the leather cover. His eyes scanned the ink-stained pages, moving rapidly across lines written in a seaside cabin under candlelight. Every defense mechanism he had built over a lifetime in high-stakes corporate boardrooms flickered and strained as he read his dead brother's private thoughts, written in ink that smelled faintly of salt and old paper.
"My God," Dominic breathed out, the sound barely audible over the hum of the office ventilation system. He found the entry where Julian described meeting me, the nurse who bandaged his ribs and listened to his fragmented memories. He read the words detailing his growing realization that his family back in New York believed him dead, and his terrifying choice to stay hidden until he could secure a future for the child he knew was coming.
Grace let out a soft yawn from where she sat on the corner of the rug, her little white socks kicking lazily. Dominic looked down at her, his expression thawing in a way that made him look remarkably like the brother he mourned—only harder, shaped by grief and betrayal.
Before he could speak, a sharp, rhythmic tapping sounded against the heavy oak outer doors.
"Mr. Caruso?" a voice called through the mahogany. It was Marcus Vance, the senior vice president of operations, sounding impatient. "The 4:00 PM strategy review is waiting in the executive boardroom. Are you ready?"
Dominic stiffened instantly. The corporate armor snapped back into place with terrifying speed. He looked at the journal, then at me, and finally at Grace, who was beginning to fuss softly.
"Hide her," Dominic hissed, pointing toward the private rest suite tucked behind the wood-paneled wall of his office. "In the back. Now."
I didn't hesitate. I scooped up Grace, gathering her warm, soft body against my shoulder, and slipped behind the heavy velvet partition just as the deadbolt turned from the outside. Marcus Vance stepped into the office, his suit immaculate, his eyes scanning the room with sharp curiosity.
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"Dominic? I thought you were locked in conference," Marcus said, his voice carrying clearly into the quiet alcove where I stood holding my breath.
"I had a security matter to handle alone, Marcus," Dominic replied, his voice level, cold, and entirely in control. I peeked through a narrow gap in the velvet, watching Dominic casually lean his hip against the edge of the desk, completely concealing the open journal with his forearm. "It's handled. Let's go to the boardroom. We start in five minutes."
