Chapter 5 - THE BLOODLINE DECEPTION
The wooden door shuddered under a brutal kick from the outside, splintering around the iron deadbolt. Dust rained down from the rafters like gray snow, stinging our eyes.
Noah buried his face against my chest, sobbing quietly, his small body trembling uncontrollably. Evelyn was breathing in shallow, ragged gasps, her hand still locked around my wrist with desperate force.
“Claire... listen to me,” Evelyn repeated, her voice thin and raspy. “The men outside... they aren't just Vanguard hitmen. They’re looking for the child. The real heir.”
“What are you talking about?” I whispered back, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst through my ribs. “Dominic is the head of the family. Everyone knows—”
“Dominic is my grandson’s son,” Evelyn interrupted, her eyes fierce in the dim light. “Not Catherine’s. Not the old patriarch’s.”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. I stared at the elderly seamstress, wondering if the terror and exhaustion had finally made her delirious. But her gaze was crystal clear, burning with a lifetime of buried truths.
“Forty-three years ago,” Evelyn whispered rapidly as another heavy blow struck the shed door, “Catherine gave birth to a stillborn child in the Palermo villa. The patriarch was furious—he needed a living male heir to secure the syndicate syndication, or the council would strip him of his title. Anthony’s mother, desperate to maintain her own standing, smuggled another infant into the nursery three days later. A baby born to the banished uncle’s wife before she was executed.”
My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at the silver locket in my palm, then at the birth date engraved inside.
“Dominic... isn't a Romano by blood?” I breathed.
“He is a bloodline of the true heirs,” Evelyn said urgently. “The ones they tried to erase. And Anthony found out six months ago when he accessed the historical hospital registries in Sicily. That’s why Anthony tried to sell the estate—to liquidate everything and flee before Dominic discovered he’s been sitting on a stolen throne.”
CRACK!
The wooden door finally gave way. The top hinge snapped, and the door fell inward with a deafening crash, kicking up a thick cloud of dust.
A tall man in a dark tactical vest stepped into the shed, holding a suppressed pistol. His face was scarred along the jawline, his eyes cold and dead. Behind him stood two more men holding assault rifles.
“Well, well,” the scarred man rasped, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “The seamstress, the maid, and the little rat. Hand over the wooden box, old woman, or I’ll start with the boy.”
Noah let out a terrified cry, trying to burrow deeper into my arms. I stood up, placing myself squarely between the gunmen and the child, my knees shaking so badly I could barely stand.
“Get away from him!” I shouted, my voice cracking with adrenaline and rage.
The scarred man laughed, raising his pistol barrel straight toward my chest.
“You’ve got a lot of spirit for a housemaid, sweetheart. Too bad it’s going to get you— Urgh!”
Before he could pull the trigger, a dark shadow dropped silently from the rafters right behind him.
A heavy steel wrench came down with sickening force across the back of the gunman’s helmet. The man collapsed like a sack of wet cement without making a sound.
Dominic stood over him, his face smeared with soot and blood, his eyes blazing with absolute fury.
Before the two men behind the leader could raise their rifles, Dominic kicked the fallen man’s weapon upward, catching the second gunman under the chin with the butt of his pistol. The man crashed backward into the shed wall and slid to the floor.
The third gunman tried to level his rifle, but Dominic moved with terrifying, predatory speed, lunging forward and driving his elbow into the man’s throat before sweeping his legs out from under him.
In less than five seconds, all three intruders were unconscious on the floor.
Dominic didn't even breathe heavily. He turned around, his eyes scanning the dark interior of the shed until they locked onto Noah, Evelyn, and me.
“Are you hurt?” Dominic demanded, his voice tight, dropping down on one knee beside us.
“We’re... we’re okay,” I stammered, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I clutched the wooden sewing box. “Dominic... they weren't just looking for money. They were looking for the box.”
Dominic’s gaze shifted to the open compartment in the sewing box, resting on the heavy iron key and the silver locket. He slowly reached out, picked up the locket, and popped it open.
He stared at the tiny portrait inside for a long, agonizing moment.
“Where did you get this?” Dominic asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“It was hidden beneath the false bottom,” I answered truthfully. “Mrs. Brooks... she told me everything.”
Dominic looked up at Evelyn, who was leaning against the wall, her chest heaving as she fought for breath.
“Everything?” Dominic repeated slowly.
Evelyn nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You aren't who they told you you were, Mr. Dominic. And the men who attacked this house tonight... they weren't sent by Vanguard. They were sent by the man you call your brother.”
Dominic stood up slowly, the locket clenched so tightly in his fist that his knuckles turned white. He turned toward the open doorway of the shed, looking out across the burning courtyard toward the main mansion where Anthony was still supposedly being guarded.
May you like
“Anthony,” Dominic whispered, the name sounding like a death sentence.
Before Dominic could take a step toward the house, a red laser dot suddenly appeared right in the center of his chest.
