Chapter 9 - The Wedding ContractThe ring that was never meant for SloaneSloane was alive.
Barely.
We carried her to a private clinic owned by one of my family's oldest allies.
The doctors removed the bullet.
She survived.
When she woke, she asked for me.
“Dominic.”
I stood beside her bed.
“You're going to tell me everything.”
She nodded.
“My father designed the marriage contract.”
“What did it do?”
“It moved voting control of the Moretti holdings to the Barrett family.”
“Why would my father agree?”
“He didn't.”
I stared.
“Then why did he approve my engagement?”
“Because he wanted me close enough to watch you.”
I frowned.
“Watch me for what?”
She looked toward the door.
“To see if you found the boys.”
I felt a chill.
“So my father knew you would find me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Elena was never supposed to be hidden forever.”
“What does that mean?”
Sloane's eyes filled with tears.
“He needed you to find her.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“To activate the will.”
I understood.
The will only recognized direct descendants.
My father needed the children alive.
He needed me to bring them home.
Then the inheritance would become legally active.
“But he's dead.”
Sloane whispered:
“Not everything he planned died with him.”
She handed me a small key.
“This opens his private study.”
We arrived at the old Moretti house before dawn.
Elena stayed with the boys.
I entered my father's study alone.
The room smelled like smoke and old wood.
On the wall hung dozens of photographs.
Business partners.
Politicians.
Enemies.
Then I saw one picture that made my stomach twist.
Me.
At twenty-nine.
With Elena.
She was pregnant.
My father had taken the photograph without our knowledge.
Beneath it was a handwritten note.
THEY HAVE FOUR.
A second photograph showed Elena entering the hospital.
Beneath it:
FIVE.
I opened a drawer.
Inside was a journal.
Page after page described the pregnancy.
The babies.
Elena.
And me.
Then I reached the final page.
If Dominic finds the children, he will bring them home.
When he does, Julian will return.
I stopped reading.
The next sentence was underlined.
THE BOY WHO LOOKS LIKE DOMINIC IS NOT THE DANGER.
I turned the page.
A single name appeared.
ELENA.
My heart stopped.
The danger was never the children.
It was her.
I shut the journal.
Elena stood in the doorway.
I raised the gun.
She didn't flinch.
“You know.”
Her eyes closed.
“Yes.”
“You were never running from the Morettis.”
“No.”
“You were hiding something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
She walked closer.
“You asked me once why I disappeared.”
I said nothing.
“I didn't disappear because your father threatened me.”
She reached beneath her shirt and pulled out a thin chain.
Attached to it was a tiny brass key.
“I disappeared because I killed a man.”
I froze.
“Who?”
May you like
She whispered:
“Your father.”
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