Chapter 3 - The Conservatory of Glass
The estate’s conservatory was a vast, glass-domed palace filled with exotic orchids, white marble statues, and the heavy, humid scent of damp earth and blooming lilies. Light from the gray morning sun filtered through the frosted glass, illuminating Claire Bennett as she sat at a wrought-iron table, sipping Earl Grey tea from fine porcelain.
She was thirty years old, the daughter of a prominent corrupt state senator, possessing a sharp, refined beauty that Dominic had once mistaken for elegance. She wore a tailored cream cashmere sweater and riding boots, her blonde hair pulled back into an effortless, sophisticated twist.
"Dominic!" Claire smiled as he stepped through the archway of ferns, setting her teacup down with a delicate clink. "Darling, I didn't expect you back from Atlantic City until noon. How were the union delegates?"
She stood up, extending her arms toward him, expecting her usual cool kiss on the cheek.
Dominic did not move forward to meet her. He stopped ten feet away, his hands buried deep in his trousers pockets, his gaze fixed on the diamond engagement ring—a five-carat flawless stone—glinting on her left hand.
Claire’s smile faltered slightly, her arms dropping to her sides. "Is something wrong? You look exhausted."
"The wine cellar door had a new brass padlock on it this morning, Claire," Dominic said softly, his voice echoing off the surrounding glass panels.
Claire didn't flinch. She let out a small, melodic laugh, reaching for her teacup again. "Oh, that? Yes, I meant to tell you as soon as you got in. I caught one of the junior kitchen girls hovering around the rare vintages last week. I asked Nathan to lock it up until we could do a full inventory. You know how careless the house staff can be."
"Mia Carter isn't junior staff," Dominic said. "And she wasn't hovering around wine."
Claire’s hand froze an inch above her porcelain cup.
The quiet in the glass room became absolute. Outside, a light winter rain began to patter softly against the high glass roof.
"Dominic..." Claire began, her tone shifting into a smooth, practiced sweetness. "What are you talking about?"
Dominic pulled the small black flash drive from his pocket and tossed it onto the wrought-iron table. It bounced once, landing right next to her silver spoon.
"Mia is upstairs," Dominic said. "Dr. Mercer is treating her for hypothermia and severe nerve damage. She spent three days in that cellar because she found a set of Montreal vessel manifests sewn into the lining of my winter coat."
Claire’s face went entirely white. The refined, aristocratic composure she had cultivated for years cracked like thin ice under a heavy boot.
"That... that's ridiculous," Claire stammered, taking a step backward away from the table. "Mia is a maid, Dominic! She’s an uneducated girl you hired out of pity three years ago! If she’s telling you stories, she’s trying to extort money from you before the wedding! You can't possibly take her word over mine!"
"I don't need her word," Dominic replied calmly. He pulled Nathan’s secondary smartphone from his other pocket and held it up. "I took this from Nathan ten minutes ago. It didn't take long for my IT security lead to bypass the four-digit encryption. Do you know what I found on it, Claire?"
Claire swallowed hard, her chest heaving beneath her cream cashmere sweater.
"I found twenty-four text messages exchanged between you and Nathan while I was driving back from New Jersey," Dominic revealed, reading directly from the screen. "'The maid hasn't talked. Make sure Dominic doesn't go near the cellar until the Montreal shipment clears the harbor on Friday.' And another one from you, Claire: 'If she becomes a problem, use the river. Make it look like she walked out on her daughter.'"
Claire stumbled back until her spine hit the glass wall of the conservatory. Her eyes darted wildly toward the archway, looking for an exit, but Daniel and Marcus had already filled the entrance, their heavy frames completely blocking the light.
"Dominic, listen to me!" Claire cried, her voice cracking into high-pitched panic. "Nathan threatened me! He forced me into this! He told me if I didn't help him route those Montreal shipping manifests through your accounts, he would ruin my father's campaign! He’s been stealing from you for years, Dominic! Not me! I love you!"
Dominic walked slowly toward her. Each step was slow, deliberate, terrifyingly heavy.
When he reached her, he didn't raise his hand. He didn't raise his voice. He simply reached out, took her left hand in his, and slid the five-carat diamond ring off her finger.
"You don't know what love is, Claire," Dominic said softly, dropping the priceless diamond into the cold tea in her porcelain cup. "And you don't know who I really am. You thought you were marrying a wealthy businessman who could be managed with smiles and lies. You forgot what built this house."
He turned to Marcus.
"Take her down to the holding room in the east wing," Dominic ordered. "Do not let her speak to her father. Do not let her touch a phone. When I am done with Nathan, I will decide what to do with the senator’s daughter."
"Dominic! Please! You can't do this to me!" Claire screamed as Marcus grabbed her arms, dragging her out of the conservatory. Her designer boots scraped uselessly against the stone floor, her cries echoing through the high glass ceiling until the heavy oak doors slammed shut.
Dominic stood alone in the rain-streaked light of the garden room. He picked up the small black flash drive from the table and held it tightly in his palm.
May you like
The fiancée was secured.
Now, it was time to speak with his brother.
