Matteo Corso arrived for Sunday dinner wearing a navy suit and an easy smile.
Fay disliked him before he said a word.
Maybe it was because she had seen the garage footage.
Maybe it was the expensive watch.
Or perhaps it was the way Matteo kissed Mrs. Gable's cheek, greeted Carmine like an old friend, and embraced Dominic as if he had never once benefited from his suffering.
“Cousin.”
Dominic accepted the embrace.
His expression revealed nothing.
Fay watched from the dining room doorway.
Matteo noticed her immediately.
“And who is this?”
“The woman responsible for the edible food around here?” Dominic answered.
Fay nearly smiled.
Matteo approached.
He was handsome in a polished way. Lighter hair than Dominic, expensive cologne, perfect teeth.
“Fay, right?”
Her stomach tightened.
Dominic had not introduced her.
“Yes.”
Matteo smiled.
“I’ve heard about you.”
“Hopefully nothing accurate.”
He laughed.
Dominic didn't.
Throughout dinner, Fay moved between kitchen and dining room while Carmine discreetly remained nearby.
Matteo discussed business.
Dominic listened.
“You're looking better,” Matteo said.
“I am.”
“Therapy helping?”
“More than expected.”
Something flickered in Matteo's eyes.
Too brief for anyone who wasn't watching.
Fay was.
“That's wonderful,” Matteo replied.
“Isn't it?”
Dominic's tone remained pleasant.
The conversation moved to shipping contracts.
Then Dominic deliberately mentioned a company Carmine had traced to Matteo.
“Bellweather Logistics.”
Matteo's fork paused.
Half a second.
Nothing more.
“What about it?”
“I’m considering buying them.”
“Bad company.”
“Why?”
“Debt.”
“You've reviewed their books?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
Matteo smiled.
“Just rumors.”
Fay watched two men who had grown up together conduct an interrogation disguised as dinner.
The tension was almost unbearable.
At dessert, Matteo turned toward her.
“How long have you worked here?”
“A month.”
“That might be a record.”
“So I’m told.”
“You're brave.”
“I need money.”
Matteo's smile sharpened.
“Everybody needs something.”
Across the table, Dominic's hand tightened around his glass.
Fay sensed the warning.
“So what do you need?” she asked.
Matteo laughed.
Dominic did not.
“Fay,” he said calmly.
She looked at him.
His eyes said enough.
Stop.
For once, she obeyed.
After dinner Matteo stood.
He kissed Mrs. Gable's cheek again.
Shook Carmine's hand.
Then leaned toward Dominic.
“Good seeing you improving, cousin.”
Dominic looked up.
“I’m just getting started.”
The men's eyes held.
Matteo walked out.
Only after the front doors closed did Fay breathe normally.
“That was horrible.”
Dominic rolled toward the study.
“You asked him what he needed?”
“He annoyed me.”
“You cannot provoke suspected murderers because they annoy you.”
“You provoke people constantly.”
“Yes. I am professionally qualified.”
Fay followed.
“Is that printed on your résumé?”
Carmine entered behind them.
“The tracker is active.”
Fay stopped.
“You put a tracker on Matteo?”
“No,” Dominic said.
“On his car?”
“No.”
She waited.
Carmine smiled.
“On the watch.”
Fay stared.
“The watch from the garage video?”
Dominic nodded.
“How?”
“Mrs. Gable.”
Fay turned.
The estate manager stood in the doorway holding a coffee tray.
“You?”
Mrs. Gable looked offended.
“I raised three boys before managing this house. Men never notice when women adjust their coats.”
Fay laughed.
Even Dominic smiled.
Two hours later, the tracker stopped at a warehouse near the river.
Carmine's people watched from a distance.
Nobody confronted Matteo.
Dominic had finally accepted Fay's argument.
Evidence first.
Revenge later—preferably through courts, corporate seizures, and enough financial pressure to make violence unnecessary.
But Matteo moved faster.
At eleven that night, Dominic received a message.
You should have stayed broken.
Attached was a photograph.
Fay sleeping in the guest room.
Taken from outside the window.
Dominic's face became terrifyingly still.
“Carmine.”
“I’m already checking.”
Fay stared at the picture.
Someone had been inside the estate grounds.
“Security?”
“Compromised,” Dominic said.
“You don't know that.”
“Somebody got close enough to photograph you.”
His breathing changed.
Fay recognized the signs.
Not a physical spasm.
Panic.
Dominic tried to turn away.
She crouched in front of him.
“Look at me.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you're not.”
“I said—”
“Dominic.”
He looked at her.
“Breathe.”
The same word she had used on day two.
He inhaled.
“Again.”
He did.
The fury remained, but its grip weakened.
Carmine returned.
“We found him.”
“Who?”
“Night security. Eric Dane.”
Dominic knew the name.
“Bring him in.”
Fay stood.
“No violence.”
Dominic looked offended.
“I know.”
“You made a face.”
“I always make this face.”
Thirty minutes later, Eric sat in the study.
He was terrified.
Carmine stood by the door.
Dominic sat behind his desk.
Fay remained near the window.
Eric confessed quickly.
Matteo had paid him.
First to erase garage footage.
Later to report Dominic's medical progress.
Then to photograph Fay.
“He said nobody would get hurt,” Eric whispered.
Dominic laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“He tried to kill me.”
“I didn't know about that.”
“You helped him.”
“I needed money.”
Fay flinched at the sentence.
Needed money.
The same justification that had brought her through Dominic's gates.
Yet choices mattered.
Desperation explained behavior.
It did not erase consequences.
Dominic called an attorney instead of ordering punishment.
Fay noticed.
So did Carmine.
Within an hour Eric was escorted away to meet investigators working through Dominic's legal counsel.
When the study became quiet, Dominic looked exhausted.
“You changed that,” Carmine said.
Dominic frowned.
“What?”
“Six months ago, Eric wouldn't have left here on his feet.”
Fay looked at Dominic.
He stared at the desk.
“Six months ago, I could walk.”
Carmine shook his head.
“That's not what changed.”
Then he left.
Fay approached.
Dominic looked toward her.
“You approve?”
“Does that matter?”
“Yes.”
The answer came instantly.
Fay sat on the edge of the desk.
“That scares me.”
“What?”
“How much my opinion matters to you.”
He looked almost amused.
“It scares me too.”
Fay smiled faintly.
Then his expression became serious.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
Dominic opened a drawer.
He removed an envelope.
Inside was a copy of a bank transfer.
Matteo to Eric.
And another.
Matteo to Dominic's former rehabilitation coordinator.
And a third to the mechanic who had serviced Dominic's car.
Fay's stomach tightened.
“Enough?”
“Almost.”
“For what?”
“To destroy him without firing a shot.”
Fay studied Dominic.
“Is that what you want?”
He looked toward his wheelchair.
“No.”
She waited.
“I want to stand in front of him.”
The words came quietly.
“Not because I need to walk to be stronger.”
He looked at Fay.
“But because he wanted me to believe I never could.”
Her eyes filled.
“Then do it.”
Dominic's throat moved.
“It might never happen.”
“Then try anyway.”
He took her hand.
This time neither pretended it meant nothing.
Weeks passed.
Therapy became brutal.
Dominic learned to tolerate assisted standing longer.
Eight seconds became twelve.
Twelve became twenty.
Twenty became nearly a minute with braces and support.
There were setbacks.
One morning he fell back into his chair and refused to speak for six hours.
Another day pain forced therapy to end before it began.
Fay never told him everything would be okay.
She simply came back the next morning.
Then came the breakthrough.
Dominic gripped the parallel bars.
Elena stood behind him.
Fay watched from the doorway.
“Ready?” Elena asked.
Dominic nodded.
He pushed upward.
His legs trembled inside the braces.
He stood.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Fay covered her mouth.
Forty-five.
Dominic looked toward her.
For the first time since she had met him, his eyes were not angry about what his body couldn't do.
They were proud of what it had just done.
“One minute,” Elena whispered.
Dominic remained upright.
Fay started crying.
He smiled.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Do your therapy.”
“One minute, ten.”
“Show-off.”
Then an alarm sounded downstairs.
Carmine's voice came over the intercom.
“Dominic.”
Something was wrong.
Dominic sat.
“What?”
“We've got movement at Bellweather.”
A pause.
Then:
“Matteo knows.”
Dominic's smile disappeared.
“Knows what?”
“That Eric talked.”
Fay felt the room turn cold.
Carmine continued.
“And Matteo is leaving the country tonight.”
Dominic looked at Fay.
Months of pain.
Evidence.
Betrayal.
All moving toward one final moment.
“Not yet,” Dominic said.
He unlocked his wheelchair.
“He isn't.”
---