Chapter 14 - The Harrington BloodlineClara did not speak for almost an hour.
Dominic wanted to break something.
He did not.
Miriam sat beside Clara on the sofa, hands folded tightly over her cane.
The flash drive remained open on the table, its contents glowing like a second fire.
Charles Harrington.
The man whose daughter had torn Clara’s dress.
The man who had threatened to expose Dominic’s past.
The man trying to destroy Harbor Light’s protection agreements.
That man might be Clara’s biological father.
Clara finally laughed.
It was a terrible sound.
“All this time, Sloane thought I was beneath her.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Clara looked at the birth certificate again.
“She might be my sister.”
No one answered.
Because no one could make that sentence less ugly.
Miriam said softly, “Helen came to me when you were five. She was frightened, but proud. She said Charles had offered money if she would sign something and leave Chicago.”
“What something?”
“A nondisclosure. A waiver. I never saw it.”
Clara looked at Dominic.
“Did your father know?”
Dominic stared at the old photograph on the screen.
“I don’t know.”
“Dominic.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated, harsher this time. Then softer: “But I will find out.”
Clara stood.
“I need to see Charles.”
Dominic immediately said, “No.”
She turned.
His voice was strained.
“Not alone.”
“Did I say alone?”
He exhaled.
“No.”
“Good.”
Charles Harrington agreed to meet because he thought Clara was coming to negotiate.
He chose his private club, a place with mahogany walls, oil portraits, and men who believed whispering was the same as morality.
Clara arrived in a simple black dress.
Dominic walked beside her.
No guards visible.
No jewelry except her wedding ring.
Charles waited near the fireplace, holding a glass of scotch.
His smile faded when he saw her face.
“You look tired, Mrs. Raines.”
Clara placed a copy of the birth certificate on the table.
“Is this why my mother was afraid of you?”
Charles did not touch the paper.
But his hand tightened around the glass.
Dominic saw it.
Clara saw it too.
Charles recovered quickly.
“I have no idea what you are implying.”
“Then I’ll say it clearly. Did you know Helen Bennett?”
Charles smiled.
“I have known many women.”
Dominic moved one step forward.
Charles stopped smiling.
Clara said, “Answer me.”
Charles looked at her for a long moment.
Then he laughed under his breath.
“Helen always did have dramatic timing.”
Clara felt the floor shift beneath her.
Dominic’s voice was deadly calm.
“Careful.”
Charles ignored him.
“She was a cleaner. Pretty. Clever in a desperate way. She misunderstood attention for affection.”
Clara’s palm struck his face before Dominic could stop her.
The sound cracked across the private club.
Every old man in the room turned.
Charles touched his cheek slowly.
Clara’s voice shook, but her eyes did not.
“You will not speak about my mother like that.”
Charles looked at Dominic.
“Will you let your wife assault me too?”
Dominic smiled without warmth.
“I was considering applauding.”
Charles’s mask slipped.
“You want money? Is that what this is? A name? A place in the family?”
Clara leaned closer.
“I want the truth.”
Charles looked at her then.
Really looked.
For one second, something like fear crossed his face.
Not because Clara resembled her mother.
Because she resembled him.
He set down the glass.
“You should have stayed with Harbor Light and your little causes,” he said. “You have no idea what your mother stole.”
Clara’s blood ran cold.
“What did she steal?”
Charles’s eyes moved to Dominic.
“Proof that the Raines family, the Harrington family, and the Whitmore family built half this city on buried bodies and stolen land.”
Dominic went still.
May you like
Charles smiled.
“And now, thanks to your sentimental wife, everyone is going to bleed.”
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