Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN ELENA BURIED
Frank Brooks survived.
Barely.
The poison had been designed to kill slowly.
The doctor stabilized him long enough for Dominic's private medical team to airlift him once the storm weakened.
Elena remained beside his bed until sunrise.
Then she walked outside the medical room and found Dominic waiting.
He had changed clothes.
Dark sweater.
No jacket.
He looked exhausted.
“Your father is stable.”
“So they say.”
Dominic studied her.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I don't sleep much.”
“I noticed.”
He almost smiled.
Elena folded her arms.
“My mother died when I was eleven.”
Dominic said nothing.
“Car accident outside Rockford.”
He waited.
“My father identified the body.”
Still nothing.
“He held a funeral.”
“Elena.”
“If she's alive, he lied to me for fifteen years.”
Dominic understood that kind of betrayal.
“My father lied to me too.”
She looked at him.
“About what?”
“Everything he thought would make me weaker.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Dominic's expression softened.
They stood in silence.
Then Elena asked:
“Why were those people laughing?”
He frowned.
“When?”
“Last night.”
His jaw tightened.
“When Vanessa locked me outside.”
He looked away.
“Cowardice.”
“No.”
Elena shook her head.
“People don't laugh unless they think cruelty is safe.”
Dominic looked at her.
“They thought Vanessa was protected by me.”
“Exactly.”
Something in his face changed.
Elena continued.
“You built a house where everyone was so afraid of upsetting you that they allowed someone to nearly die.”
The words hit hard.
No employee had ever spoken to Dominic like that.
Marco would have warned her.
Elena didn't care.
Dominic finally said:
“You're right.”
That answer surprised her.
“I didn't expect that.”
“Neither did I.”
He stepped closer.
“I'll fix it.”
“You can't fix fear with more fear.”
His eyes held hers.
“Then maybe you'll tell me how.”
Elena looked away first.
Later that morning, Marco found records connected to Elena's mother.
Her name had been Laura Brooks.
Death certificate issued fifteen years earlier.
But no body photographs.
No DNA confirmation.
The funeral home had received a sealed casket.
Paid in cash.
Dominic had private investigators pull travel records.
Nothing.
Then an old passport resurfaced under another name.
Laura Bennett.
Used three years after her supposed death.
Last known location:
Denver.
Marco placed the photograph on Dominic's desk.
Elena stared.
It was her mother.
Older.
Different hair.
But unmistakable.
“Where is she now?”
“We traced property records.”
Marco opened another file.
“She owns a home outside Boulder.”
Elena stood.
“I'm going.”
Dominic did too.
“You're not going alone.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because whoever killed my father may be with her.”
“That's your reason?”
He paused.
“No.”
Elena waited.
Dominic's voice lowered.
“I almost found you dead in the snow six hours ago.”
Something shifted between them.
“I don't want that happening again.”
Elena looked away.
That was dangerous.
Not the words.
The sincerity.
They drove to Boulder that afternoon with Marco and security.
The house stood at the end of a private road.
Christmas lights hung from the porch.
Smoke rose from the chimney.
Elena approached the door.
Her hand shook.
Dominic stood beside her but didn't touch her.
She knocked.
Footsteps.
The door opened.
A woman in her late fifties stared out.
Elena stopped breathing.
Her mother's face changed.
“Elena?”
Tears filled Elena's eyes.
“You're alive.”
Laura covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Then she stepped forward.
Elena moved backward.
“No.”
Her mother's expression shattered.
“You let me bury you.”
“I can explain.”
“Fifteen years.”
“I had no choice.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Dominic remained silent.
Laura noticed him.
Fear filled her face.
“Dominic Vale.”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn't be here.”
“Apparently neither should you.”
Laura looked toward the road.
Then whispered:
“He'll know.”
Elena's pulse jumped.
“Who?”
Her mother grabbed her wrist.
“You have to leave.”
“Who killed Alexander Vale?”
Laura began crying.
“Elena…”
“Dad said you married him.”
Silence.
Then a male voice sounded from inside the house.
“Laura?”
Dominic went completely still.
He knew that voice.
A man stepped into the hallway.
Sixty-five.
Gray hair.
Scar across one eyebrow.
Dominic's blood went cold.
Sebastian Vale.
His father's younger brother.
His uncle.
The man who had supposedly died twelve years earlier in Mexico.
Elena stared.
The memory returned fully.
Warehouse.
Gun.
Silver wolf ring.
Alexander Vale falling.
Sebastian looked at Elena.
Recognition appeared.
Then horror.
“You.”
Dominic slowly reached beneath his jacket.
“Uncle.”
Sebastian's face hardened.
Laura whispered:
“Don't.”
Dominic's voice turned cold.
“You killed my father.”
Sebastian looked at him.
Then smiled.
“No.”
Dominic froze.
Sebastian continued.
“Elena saw me holding the gun.”
He looked at Elena.
“But I wasn't the one who fired it.”
Elena's memory fractured again.
A second gunshot.
Someone behind Alexander.
Another shadow.
Sebastian leaned closer.
“Your father was killed by two people.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Who was the second?”
May you like
Sebastian's smile disappeared.
“Your mother.”
