Chapter 7 - THE WRATH OF A FATHER
The eradication of Vanessa Sterling from the Patterson empire was a masterclass in absolute, ruthless destruction.
Dominic did not scream. He did not yell. When Marcus and his heavily armed security team marched into the grand living room, Vanessa was sitting by the fire, sipping a martini, looking entirely unbothered by her earlier argument with Dominic.
Dominic walked in, holding a tablet displaying the security footage of her deliberately spilling the water. He didn't say a word. He simply placed the tablet on the coffee table in front of her and hit play.
Vanessa’s haughty expression shattered instantly. All the color drained from her perfectly contoured face, leaving her looking like a terrified ghost. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of Ryan crying on the video playback.
"Dominic... I... I can explain," Vanessa stammered, her hands shaking so badly she spilled her martini onto her expensive dress. "It was an accident! I bumped the table, I panicked—"
"You have exactly ten minutes to pack whatever fits into a single suitcase," Dominic interrupted, his voice a low, terrifying monotone. "My men will escort you to the airport. You are being placed on a private jet to London. You will never return to Chicago. You will never contact me, and you will never come within a hundred miles of my son."
"You can't do this!" Vanessa shrieked, her panic turning into desperate rage. "I am your family! I am Sarah's sister! What will people say?!"
"If you argue with me, Vanessa," Dominic leaned forward, his eyes burning with a demonic fire, "I will hand this footage over to the Chicago Police Department and press charges for felony child endangerment and aggravated assault. I will bankrupt you in civil court. I will freeze every trust fund your family relies on. I will destroy you so completely that you will be begging for a job cleaning toilets. Ten minutes. Marcus, start the clock."
Ten minutes later, Vanessa was dragged sobbing out the front door, her reign of terror over the Patterson estate permanently terminated.
Dominic’s next call was to Dr. Aris. The conversation lasted less than two minutes. The doctor was fired, his exorbitant retainer canceled, and a formal complaint regarding his unethical collusion with Vanessa was filed with the state medical board.
But destroying his enemies did not fix the gaping, bleeding hole in his home.
Dominic walked upstairs to Ryan's room. The boy was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, looking smaller than ever.
Dominic sat on the edge of the mattress. Tears, hot and heavy with regret, burned his eyes. He reached out and gently stroked his son's hair.
"Ryan," Dominic whispered, his voice cracking. "I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. Aunt Vanessa... she caused the accident. She did it on purpose. Norah never left you in danger. Norah was protecting you. And I was too blind, and too scared, to see it."
Ryan slowly turned his head. For the first time in three weeks, a flicker of emotion—a desperate, fragile hope—ignited in his dull hazel eyes.
"You fired her," Ryan rasped, his voice weak from disuse.
"I know," Dominic choked out, a tear finally escaping and tracing down his cheek. "I was a coward, Ryan. I was so terrified of losing you that I punished the one person who was helping you live. But I am going to fix it. I am going to find her. I promise you, I will bring her back."
Ryan reached out, his small, weak hand gripping his father's thumb. "Hurry."
It took Marcus less than an hour to locate Norah. She hadn't left Chicago. She was living in a small, run-down apartment complex in the working-class neighborhood of Pilsen, working double shifts at a local diner to make ends meet.
It was raining again—a cold, miserable November downpour—when Dominic’s sleek, black armored Maybach pulled up to the curb outside the peeling brick building.
Dominic didn't wait for his driver to open the door. He stepped out into the freezing rain, wearing his expensive suit, and walked up to the rusted security door. He pressed the buzzer for apartment 3B.
"Who is it?" Norah’s voice crackled through the ancient intercom, sounding exhausted.
"It's Dominic Patterson."
There was a long, heavy silence. For a terrifying moment, Dominic thought she was going to hang up on him. But then, the electronic lock buzzed.
He climbed three flights of dimly lit, narrow stairs. Norah was standing in the open doorway of her tiny apartment. She was wearing a faded oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, her hair messy, looking tired and worn down by the world. But when she looked at him, her eyes were still sharp, still fiercely intelligent.
"If you are here with lawyers, Mr. Patterson, you can save your breath," Norah said coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I haven't spoken to the press, and I haven't contacted your son."
Dominic stopped a few feet away from her. The billionaire CEO, the man who commanded empires, suddenly felt incredibly small.
He didn't speak. He didn't offer a defense.
Right there, in the dingy hallway with flickering fluorescent lights, Dominic Patterson dropped to his knees. The expensive fabric of his suit soaked up the dirt from the linoleum floor.
Norah gasped, her arms dropping to her sides, stepping back in absolute shock. "What... what are you doing? Stand up!"
"I saw the security footage," Dominic said, looking up at her, tears freely streaming down his face, mixing with the rain in his hair. "I saw what Vanessa did. I saw her push the vase. I saw everything."
Norah covered her mouth with her hand, a small, broken sob escaping her lips as the agonizing injustice of the past month was finally acknowledged.
"I am so sorry, Norah," Dominic wept, the walls completely demolished, leaving a broken father begging for salvation. "I was a coward. I let my trauma blind me. I let my fear hurt my son, and I destroyed the life of the only woman brave enough to fight for him. Ryan is dying inside, Norah. He hasn't spoken. He hasn't moved. He is locked in that chair, and it is entirely my fault."
Dominic bowed his head, his hands resting on his thighs. "I am begging you. Not as an employer. I am begging you as a father who has failed his child. Please come back. Punish me, hate me, make me scrub the floors, I don't care. Just please... come back and save my son."
Norah looked down at the shattered billionaire. She saw the immense, crushing weight of a man who had finally realized that true love wasn't about building a safe prison, but about holding someone's hand while they walked through the storm.
May you like
She knelt on the dirty floor in front of him. She reached out, her soft, warm hands cupping his cold, wet face, lifting his eyes to meet hers.
"Get up, Dominic," Norah whispered, tears shining in her own eyes, a beautiful, forgiving smile breaking across her face. "We have a lot of physical therapy to catch up on."
