Chapter 8 - THE CHILD WHO SHOULD NOT EXIST
No one spoke.
Not Dominic.
Not Mia.
Not Marcus.
Even Harper stopped crying because the adults had gone too quiet.
Paul Renner looked like a man who had crawled into the wrong confession and could not crawl back out.
“Elise’s baby died,” Dominic said.
His voice sounded unfamiliar.
Paul shook his head, tears cutting tracks through the sweat on his face. “That’s what Nathan told everyone.”
Dominic tightened his grip. “What baby?”
Paul looked at Mia.
Mia’s face had gone white in a way that had nothing to do with dehydration.
“What baby?” Dominic repeated.
Paul swallowed. “A girl.”
The room tilted again.
Dominic released Paul so suddenly the accountant fell backward against the wall.
Mia whispered, “No.”
Dominic turned to her.
“Mia.”
She shook her head, tears already spilling. “No. I don’t know. I swear to God, I don’t know.”
Harper pressed against her. “Mommy?”
Mia pulled Harper close, her entire body trembling now. “You are my baby.”
Dominic looked at Harper.
Four years old.
Big dark eyes.
A stubborn little chin.
A silver bird pendant.
He had known her since she was a toddler running through the back halls with cookies in both hands. He had watched her grow from a quiet baby into a child brave enough to pull a mafia boss by the coat and demand he listen.
He had never wondered who her father was.
Mia had once said Harper’s father was gone before she was born.
Dominic had respected the boundary.
Nathan had counted on that.
Dr. Mercer stirred from the chair where Marcus had helped him sit. “This is medically impossible without dates.”
Dominic looked at him. “Explain.”
“If Elise was pregnant eleven years ago, Harper cannot be that child. She’s four.”
Paul shook his head quickly. “Not Harper. Not directly. The files Nathan had were about embryos. A clinic. A surrogate. I only saw fragments.”
Dominic’s stare sharpened. “Say that again.”
Paul covered his face. “Elise had fertility treatments before she died. There were embryos stored. After she died, Nathan found the records. Years later, one was transferred illegally through a private clinic.”
Mia swayed.
Dominic caught her again.
Mia whispered, “Harper was born through a clinic.”
Dominic felt the words enter the room slowly, cruelly.
Mia looked at him with horror. “I wanted a child. I couldn’t afford normal adoption. A woman from the clinic said there was a private donor program. Anonymous. Legal. I thought—” Her voice broke. “I thought I was just lucky.”
Paul nodded miserably. “Nathan arranged it.”
Dominic could barely breathe.
“Why?” Marcus demanded. “Why would Nathan give Elise and Dominic’s child to Mia?”
Paul looked at Dominic with naked fear. “Leverage. Insurance. I don’t know. Nathan said blood inside the staff made the house easier to control.”
Mia covered Harper’s ears.
But Harper was listening anyway.
Children always heard the words adults most wanted to hide.
Dominic stood slowly.
“Where are the files?”
Paul pointed weakly toward the floor. “Mercy Room. Bottom safe. Blue folder.”
Dominic looked at Marcus. “Take him to a locked room. Guard him. Do not let anyone speak to him.”
Marcus dragged Paul out.
Mia shook her head again and again. “Dominic, I did not know.”
“I know.”
“I would never have kept—”
“I know.”
“She’s mine,” Mia sobbed. “I carried her. I fed her. I stayed up when she had fevers. I sang to her every night. She is mine.”
Dominic looked down at Harper.
The little girl stared at him with fear in her eyes, not understanding bloodlines or crimes or embryos or inheritance.
Only that grown-ups were speaking as if love could be taken by paperwork.
Dominic crouched.
Harper stepped back.
That hurt more than he expected.
He lowered his voice. “Nobody is taking you from your mommy.”
Harper’s lower lip shook. “Promise?”
Dominic held out his hand, palm open.
“I promise.”
She studied him.
Then placed her tiny hand in his.
Mia broke down.
Dominic closed his fingers gently around Harper’s hand and looked at Mia.
“Whatever Nathan did, he does not get to decide what family means.”
For the first time all night, Mia looked at him not as her employer, not as the man who owned the house, but as the only person powerful enough to keep the truth from becoming another weapon.
“Dominic,” she whispered, “if Claire knows—”
“She knows enough.”
“And Nathan?”
Dominic rose.
“He knows too much.”
Back in the Mercy Room, Nathan was still under guard, but his eyes lit when Dominic entered.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
Dominic crossed the room and opened the bottom safe with the combination Paul had given under questioning. Inside was a blue folder, wrapped in plastic.
Elise Vale fertility records.
Unauthorized transfer documents.
False donor identities.
Payments routed through Nathan’s companies.
And at the back, one handwritten note.
Not Nathan’s.
Elise’s.
Dominic recognized it instantly.
For our child, if the world becomes kinder than the one we inherited.
Dominic closed his eyes.
Nathan said softly, “Congratulations.”
Daniel shoved him against the wall. “Shut up.”
Nathan ignored him. “I wondered how long it would take you to see it. Harper has Elise’s eyes when she’s angry.”
Dominic turned.
Nathan smiled. “That child is the last clean thing Elise left behind. And she belongs to a housekeeper.”
Dominic hit him.
This time, Daniel did not stop him.
Nathan spat blood and laughed. “There he is.”
Dominic leaned close.
“You thought blood would make me cruel.”
Nathan’s smile faltered.
Dominic continued. “You thought I would rip a child from the only mother she knows. You thought Mia would become my enemy. You thought love was just another pressure point.”
Nathan’s eyes narrowed.
Dominic straightened. “That is why you lost.”
Nathan looked toward Claire, who sat handcuffed near the desk, weeping silently now.
Claire whispered, “I didn’t know about the child.”
Dominic looked at her. “But you knew about the woman in the cellar.”
Claire had no answer.
Dominic took the blue folder and walked out.
Behind him, Nathan called, “You think this ends with me? Elise found names. Judges. bankers. cops. Men you still shake hands with.”
Dominic stopped.
Nathan smiled through blood. “If I go down, your whole world burns.”
May you like
Dominic looked back once.
“Then it burns.”
