Chapter 5 - The Name Dominic Remembered

Gabriel Serrano had been dead for twelve years.

At least that was what everyone believed.

Car accident in Mexico.

Closed casket.

Private funeral.

Camille told us from the bank hallway.

“My father never talks about him.”

Dominic stared through the window.

“He was at the harbor.”

Adrian stepped closer.

“You remember?”

“Pieces.”

Dominic closed his eyes.

“A blue tie.”

Rain.

A white car.

Someone saying, “You should have signed.”

Then pain.

Camille looked sick.

“My uncle worked for my father?”

Henry answered.

“He handled problems Rafael wanted kept away from company records.”

Adrian looked at him.

“You knew him?”

“I knew enough to avoid him.”

That afternoon, Adrian canceled the engagement announcement publicly.

Not the engagement.

Not yet.

That distinction mattered.

Camille noticed.

So did I.

He asked her to leave the estate.

She did.

Without argument.

Before she walked out, she placed her engagement ring on the table.

Adrian looked at it.

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because I don’t get to wear it while you decide whether I lied to you because I was afraid or because I was useful to my father.”

Adrian’s expression changed.

Just slightly.

Camille left.

Two hours later, Rafael arrived.

With two lawyers.

Adrian met him in the library.

I brought coffee nobody touched.

Rafael looked at Dominic.

“You should have stayed gone.”

The sentence was quiet.

But Dominic heard it.

So did Adrian.

Henry switched on his recorder.

Rafael smiled without humor.

“Careful, counselor.”

Adrian placed the ledger on the desk.

“My mother said you protected the man who caused my father’s disappearance.”

Rafael looked at the book.

Then at Adrian.

“Your mother believed many things.”

Dominic leaned forward.

“Gabriel.”

Rafael’s jaw moved.

Once.

Enough.

Adrian saw it.

“Your brother.”

Rafael sat back.

“My brother was unstable.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“He thought Dominic would destroy both families.”

Dominic whispered, “So he tried to kill me.”

Rafael looked at him.

“No.”

The room went still.

“Gabriel was ordered to frighten you.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed.

“By who?”

Rafael did not answer.

Henry closed the ledger.

“Then we are done.”

He started gathering papers.

Rafael looked at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing everything for federal investigators.”

Rafael finally lost color.

Not because of Gabriel.

Because of the ledger.

Adrian saw it.

“So the money is what scares you.”

Rafael’s voice hardened.

“You think Vale Holdings survived sixteen years because of sentiment? I kept that company alive.”

“With stolen control.”

“With control.”

Dominic stood.

“You forged the amendment.”

Rafael looked at him.

“Yes.”

Camille had lied.

Rafael had done worse.

But he had not tried to hide this part anymore.

Adrian stared.

“Why admit it?”

“Because forgery is easier to survive than murder.”

The room went silent.

Henry said, “Meaning?”

Rafael looked at Dominic.

“Gabriel caused the crash.”

He paused.

“But Gabriel was already dead when your wife received the threat.”

Adrian’s face changed.

Evelyn had received that threat three years after Dominic vanished.

If Gabriel was dead by then—

Someone else continued it.

Dominic whispered, “Who?”

Rafael looked at Adrian.

“Your mother knew.”

Adrian stepped forward.

“Who?”

Rafael’s calm returned.

“The person who benefited most from Dominic staying dead.”

I thought of shares.

Trusts.

Company control.

Then I remembered something.

Dominic disappeared when Adrian was seventeen.

Rafael gained influence.

But not ownership.

Someone else did.

I looked toward the portrait above the fireplace.

Adrian’s uncle.

Victor Vale.

His father’s younger brother.

The man who had run Vale Holdings until Adrian turned twenty-five.

The man who still sat on its board.

Adrian followed my eyes.

His face emptied.

“No.”

Rafael nodded.

“Victor paid Gabriel.”

Dominic gripped the chair.

Adrian whispered, “My uncle raised me after my mother got sick.”

Rafael’s answer was almost gentle.

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“I know.”

The worst betrayals usually came from people close enough to know exactly what losing them would cost.