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Chapter 4 - A Whisper of Doubt

Chapter 004

​The early morning light did not find Dominic in his bed. He was in his office with Marco, the room a sea of scattered papers, old ledgers, and digital files on a glowing screen. The soft hum of the computer was the only sound besides the quiet, tense breathing of the two men. Dominic had not slept. Isabella's words had become a fever in his mind, a question he could no longer ignore. He was now a traitor to his own revenge, acting on a feeling given to him by his enemy.

​"The deal went bad at the docks," Marco said, pointing to a name on a computer screen. "This man, Sal Vitale, was a witness. He worked for us. But his name was not on the official report my father filed."

​Dominic leaned closer, his eyes scanning the document. "Why not?" he said, his voice a low growl. "He was a loyal man. He was there."

​"He was gone a week later," Marco replied, his face grim. "He was found dead in a car crash. The police called it an accident. The report said he was drunk driving."

​A cold knot of suspicion tightened in Dominic's stomach. His father had always said the DeLucas had cleaned up every loose end, making sure no one could talk. But this wasn't their doing. This was a cover-up, a convenient death that had removed a witness. "Find out everything about this car crash," he ordered. "Get the real police file, the one nobody sees. And don't tell anyone."

​Meanwhile, in the study, Isabella was awake. The food Dominic had brought was cold and untouched. She walked the room again, her mind playing back his words, his face. She was not foolish enough to think he was a good man, but she was smart enough to know he was not a simple one. The seed of doubt she had planted was a fragile thing, but the look in his eyes told her it had taken root. She knew this was a high-stakes gamble. If he found nothing, her words would be a lie, and her fate would be sealed.

​An hour later, the door opened and Dominic entered, alone again. He carried no food this time, but his eyes were different. The anger was still there, but there was a new, hard question behind it, a hunger for truth.

​"Tell me about your father's code," he said without preamble. "You said he would not have hurt a person with no part in the fight."

​Isabella felt a flicker of hope. He was thinking. "My father is a man who keeps his word, no matter how cruel," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He never involves people outside the business. He would not have targeted your brother, Dominic. Not if he was just an artist. That would have been a waste of power."

​"And if he had a reason?" Dominic challenged. "If your father saw a threat?"

​"Then he would have left a reason," she said simply, her gaze steady. "He would have made sure everyone knew why. My father believes in a kind of twisted justice, but he does not believe in silent murders. It's a matter of pride. A show of strength. A quiet death is the mark of a coward, or a man who has something to hide."

​Her words were like a key, unlocking a door to a new truth. Dominic remembered his own father's vague answers, the quick way the subject was always changed. He thought of the missing witness, the convenient car crash. He felt the firm ground of his revenge begin to crumble under his feet.

​As she spoke, his phone buzzed. It was a new message from Marco. Dominic opened it, his eyes scanning the short text. It was a photo of a police report. The report listed the names of the people who died in the car crash. Not just Sal Vitale, but a second name: Teresa Moreno. A woman his father had dated. A woman his father had wanted to quietly get rid of. The car crash wasn't about the Bellafiore family. It was a personal cleanup, a dirty secret hidden under the guise of an "accident." Dominic felt a cold wave of betrayal and rage wash over him, so strong it made him dizzy. His father, the man he had trusted, the man who had ordered this revenge, was a liar.

​He looked up from the phone, his gaze finding Isabella's. He saw the genuine concern in her eyes. It was not a trick. She was telling the truth. The revenge he had based his life on for the past year was built on a lie, a carefully constructed web spun by his own family.

​He walked over to a small table near the door. He didn't speak. He simply picked up a heavy ring of keys and placed them on the desk.

​"This is no longer your prison," he said, his voice low and different. "The house is big. You can move freely. But the gates are locked. The guards are my men. This is not a gift. This is a new kind of prison. And I will know if you try to escape."

​He left the keys on the desk, a silent challenge, a new kind of promise. Isabella stared at the keys, a symbol of a freedom that wasn't real, but also a sign that the ground was shifting beneath her feet. Dominic walked out without a backward glance, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the knowledge that the game had changed completely. She was no longer just a captive. She was a key to a truth he was now desperate to find, and that was a far more dangerous position to be in.

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