Chapter 2 - THE TABLET IN THE SHADOWS

"Get the cars! Now!" Dominic roared, his voice echoing off the wet marble walls of the foyer.

The Romano estate erupted into organized chaos. Guards sprinted for the black SUVs lined up in the circular driveway.

Dominic turned to me, his face a terrifying mask of controlled fury. "Rocco will take you to a secure safehouse in the city. You will be protected."

"No," I said, grabbing his soot-stained sleeve. "I'm coming with you."

"Emily, it's too dangerous. You nearly burned to death!"

"Antonio trusts me!" I pleaded, my voice breaking. "He held onto my arm, Dominic. Not yours. Not Victoria's. Mine. He needs to see a friendly face when he wakes up, assuming we get there in time. I am not hiding while your father dies."

Dominic looked at the fierce determination in my eyes, glancing briefly at my pregnant stomach, and finally gave a sharp nod. "Stay behind me. If shooting starts, you drop to the floor and you do not move."

We piled into the back of Dominic’s armored Maybach. The tires squealed against the pavement as the driver blew past the estate gates, leading a convoy of three SUVs toward the city at terrifying speeds.

The private clinic was located on the top floor of an exclusive Manhattan high-rise. Dominic owned the entire floor.

When the elevator doors slid open, the scene was horrifyingly quiet.

Dominic’s two stationed guards were lying unconscious on the polished floor, clearly tased.

Dominic stepped over them, his gun drawn, signaling for me to stay close to the wall. We moved silently down the pristine white corridor toward the Intensive Care Unit.

Through the large glass windows of the ICU room, we saw him.

Julian Thorne.

The impeccably dressed corporate lawyer stood beside Antonio’s bed. The heart monitor beeped a steady, fragile rhythm. Julian wasn't holding a legal document.

He was holding a syringe filled with a cloudy, yellow liquid.

Dominic didn't hesitate. He kicked the double doors open, raising his weapon.

"Drop it, Julian," Dominic commanded, his voice deadly quiet.

Julian didn't flinch. He slowly turned his head, a cold, empty smile stretching across his handsome face. He moved his hand, pressing the needle of the syringe directly into the rubber port of Antonio’s central IV line.

"Shoot me, Dominic," Julian said calmly. "The bullet will kill me, but my thumb will compress the plunger before I hit the floor. A concentrated dose of potassium chloride. It will stop your father's heart in three seconds. The doctors will rule it a natural cardiac event."

Dominic’s finger hovered over the trigger. His hands, usually so steady, trembled with rage. "You took my money. You destroyed my fiancée. You burned my house. Step away from my father, Julian."

"Your father took my family!" Julian snarled, the polished lawyer facade finally cracking, revealing the broken, vengeful child underneath. "Thirty years ago, Antonio Romano ordered my father shot dead in an alley over a labor dispute. I was six years old! I grew up in foster care while you grew up in a mansion! You think a few stolen millions makes up for that?"

Julian's thumb pressed slightly against the plunger. A tiny drop of yellow liquid entered the IV tube.

"I'm ending the Romano bloodline tonight," Julian sneered. "I'll kill him, and then I'll watch you go to prison for the money I laundered in your name."

Dominic was trapped. If he fired, his father died.

I couldn't stand behind the door anymore.

I stepped into the room, my hands resting on my swollen belly.

Julian’s eyes snapped toward me in surprise. "Get out of here, Emily. You played your part perfectly. Don't ruin it now."

"You think this fixes it?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady. I walked slowly toward the side of Antonio's bed, ignoring Dominic’s frantic hiss for me to stop.

I looked Julian directly in the eyes. I didn't see a criminal mastermind. I saw a man consumed by grief.

"My father left me before I was born," I said softly. "The father of my baby abandoned me when I told him I was pregnant. I know exactly what it feels like to be completely alone in the world, Julian. I know how much it hurts."

Julian’s jaw tightened. "You know nothing."

"I know that killing a helpless old man won't bring your father back," I said, placing my hand gently over Antonio’s frail, sleeping fingers. "It won't make the pain go away. It will just make you the exact same monster you've spent thirty years hating."

For one crucial, agonizing second, Julian hesitated. His eyes flickered down to my pregnant stomach, a flash of genuine human conflict crossing his face. The grip on the syringe loosened by a millimeter.

It was all Dominic needed.

BANG.

Dominic fired.

He didn't shoot Julian in the head. He shot him directly in the right shoulder.

Julian screamed as the bullet shattered his collarbone. The syringe spun out of his hand, clattering harmlessly onto the linoleum floor. Julian collapsed against the wall, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

Dominic was across the room in a flash, kicking the syringe away and pinning Julian to the floor with a knee to his chest.

"It's over," Dominic growled.

I let out a massive sigh of relief, leaning against the bedrail. Antonio was safe.

But Julian, bleeding heavily on the floor, suddenly began to laugh. A wet, hacking, victorious laugh.

"You think you won, Dominic?" Julian gasped, a bloody smile spreading across his lips. "I'm a lawyer. I don't leave things to chance. I didn't need the syringe."

Reversal.

Julian pointed a trembling, blood-stained finger toward the tall metal pole beside the bed.

"Look at the IV bag," Julian whispered.

My eyes darted to the clear plastic bag of saline dripping steadily into Antonio’s arm.

The liquid inside the bag wasn't clear. It carried a faint, sickly yellow tint. Julian had already injected the poison into the primary drip before we even walked into the room. The syringe was just a distraction to keep Dominic occupied while the lethal dose worked its way into Antonio's veins.

Suddenly, the heart monitor beside the bed spiked wildly.