Chapter 7 - DOMINIC LOOKED AT ME AND SAID, “YOUR TRIPLETS SAVED GABRIEL FROM BECOMING USEFUL”
Dominic Vale was sixty-six.
Older than Gabriel by five years.
Thinner than the photographs.
Hair silver.
Tan coat.
No visible security.
He sat across from Noah and me.
Ordered espresso.
Then smiled.
“Claire Cross.”
I did not smile back.
“Dominic Vale.”
He looked at Noah.
“You resemble him.”
“Apparently.”
“You write like your mother.”
Noah frowned.
“You’ve read my work?”
“All of it.”
My stomach tightened.
Of course.
Men like Dominic collect information because knowing feels like ownership.
Noah started recorder.
Consent given.
Dominic leaned back.
“What do you want?”
Noah almost laughed.
“You requested meeting.”
“Yes.”
“Then talk.”
Dominic smiled.
Gabriel would have hated him.
Maybe because they were once similar.
“Harbor Point.”
Noah said.
Dominic’s smile faded slightly.
“Mistakes were made.”
I laughed.
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Men love that sentence when they know exactly which people made them.”
His eyes sharpened.
“You always were intelligent.”
“You never met me.”
“No.”
“But I received reports.”
There.
My hands tightened.
Noah saw.
“Reports on my mother?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Five years.”
“After we were born?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever intend to hurt us?”
“No.”
Immediate.
“Why watch?”
“Risk.”
I stared.
“Three toddlers were risk?”
“To Serena’s position.”
“To Gabriel’s stability.”
He said it casually.
That was worse.
Noah’s voice hardened.
“You treated children like corporate exposure.”
Dominic shrugged.
“Your father did that with everyone in those years.”
Maybe.
Not the boys directly.
Still.
I said—
“Why send Serena to Gabriel?”
Dominic smiled.
“Because Gabriel was becoming inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient how?”
“He wanted records.”
“Central approvals.”
“Formal bids.”
“Compliance.”
“Words people use when they want to pretend business does not depend on relationships.”
Noah wrote.
Dominic continued—
“Gabriel’s father understood favors.”
“Gabriel wanted systems.”
“You were stealing.”
Dominic looked at me.
“I was earning.”
Noah almost laughed.
“Through condemned warehouses?”
“Through speed.”
“Access.”
“Certainty.”
Then Luis.
“Did you order workers into H-17?”
Dominic’s face changed.
“No.”
“Rafael says you did.”
“Rafael lies.”
“Luis died.”
“Yes.”
“Did you move his body?”
Dominic looked annoyed.
“I did not personally move anyone.”
Another euphemism.
Noah pressed.
“Did you tell Redline to move him?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize?”
“I told them to solve the problem.”
There.
Gabriel’s language.
Handle it.
Solve it.
Dominic used it too.
I looked at him.
“And what did you expect?”
“That they report an accident at a condemned site and shut down a fifty-million-dollar project?”
He almost laughed.
“No.”
Silence.
Noah said—
“So yes.”
Dominic stared.
“I expected discretion.”
There.
Not murder.
Not accidental death.
Discretion.
He knew.
My stomach turned.
Then I asked—
“Why hide my pregnancy?”
His face changed.
Finally.
Personal.
“Serena asked me what to do.”
“No.”
“She told you.”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Do not tell Gabriel.”
“Why?”
Dominic sipped espresso.
“Because you were his conscience.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“He became softer around you.”
I almost laughed.
“Gabriel cheated on me.”
“Yes.”
“Softly?”
Dominic smiled.
“You misunderstand.”
“He became more cautious.”
“He questioned old relationships.”
“He wanted clean books.”
“You pushed him toward normal life.”
“Serena thought she was replacing you.”
Dominic’s smile turned colder.
“She was really helping me keep him distracted.”
Noah’s face hardened.
“You used your sister.”
“She used me too.”
“No.”
I said.
“Do not make mutual manipulation sound equal because it makes you feel better.”
Dominic looked at me.
Interest.
Not shame.
Then—
“When Serena told me you were pregnant, I understood one child could pull Gabriel back.”
“One?”
“Then three.”
He laughed softly.
“Three would have ended everything.”
“What?”
“Gabriel would have become obsessed.”
“Security.”
“Legacy.”
“Schools.”
“Doctors.”
“Trusts.”
“He would have ripped out every informal system around him.”
I thought of what actually happened.
He eventually did.
Dominic was right.
Our sons became reason.
Not weakness.
Catalyst.
“You said our triplets saved him from becoming useful.”
Noah reminded.
Dominic looked at him.
“Yes.”
“To men like me.”
Silence.
“So hiding us preserved your access.”
“For a while.”
“Then Dad discovered us.”
“Yes.”
“And removed you.”
“Yes.”
Dominic’s smile disappeared.
“There was no reason to keep Serena useful after that.”
Cold.
His sister reduced to function.
No wonder she had become someone who treated my pregnancy the same way.
People learn hierarchy somewhere.
Noah asked—
“What recordings?”
Dominic leaned back.
“Your father approved more than he remembers.”
Gabriel.
Not Noah’s father? yes.
“Show us.”
“No.”
“Why invite us?”
“To make an offer.”
Of course.
“What?”
“I give you archive.”
“All tapes.”
“All Harbor Point files.”
“All political payment records.”
“In exchange?”
Noah asked.
“You delay publication for thirty days.”
“Why?”
“Time.”
“For what?”
“To settle certain affairs.”
I laughed.
“No.”
Dominic looked at me.
“This is not your decision.”
“Correct.”
I turned to Noah.
“It’s his.”
Noah smiled faintly.
“Also no.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“You should think.”
“I did.”
“You want evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Then bargain.”
“I’m a journalist.”
“Not prosecutor.”
“No.”
Dominic leaned closer.
“You’re also Gabriel Cross’s son.”
There.
Power lure.
Always.
Noah sat back.
“Which matters how?”
“You have access.”
“Influence.”
“You can decide whether your father’s final years become scandal.”
Noah stared.
“Final years?”
“He is sixty.”
“You say that like he’s ninety.”
Dominic smiled.
“Power ages men differently.”
Then—
“You could protect him.”
Noah’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
Dominic seemed genuinely surprised.
Noah continued—
“My dad spent twenty years teaching us that protecting family doesn’t mean controlling information.”
I almost smiled.
“That must disappoint you.”
Dominic’s expression turned cold.
“Your father’s reforms made him weak.”
Noah nodded.
“You keep saying that.”
“Yet you’re hiding in Portugal asking his kid for a deal.”
Silence.
Beautiful.
Dominic’s face changed.
Then he looked at me.
“You raised them badly.”
“Thank you.”
He stood.
Meeting over apparently.
Then I asked—
“Did Serena know about Luis?”
He stopped.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“How much?”
“She knew someone died.”
“Did she know the body was moved?”
“Yes.”
Noah looked sick.
“And she said nothing for twenty years.”
Dominic shrugged.
“She had her own crimes.”
Then he left.
No archive.
No deal.
But Noah had recording of confession-like statements.
Not enough for prosecution perhaps.
Enough journalism.
More importantly, local counsel had arranged with Portuguese authorities to preserve hotel CCTV because U.S. investigators already had open matters.
We did not trap Dominic.
He trapped himself by talking.
Arrogance.
Old disease.
On flight home, Noah sat beside me.
Quiet.
Then—
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Serena knew.”
“Yes.”
“Are you surprised?”
I thought.
“Yes.”
Even after everything.
Serena had admitted hiding pregnancy.
Investigator.
Dominic.
But Luis?
A dead worker?
That was new.
Another layer.
Noah looked out window.
“Do you hate her?”
“No.”
He turned.
“Really?”
“I don’t know her enough anymore to hate her.”
Then—
“I hate what she did.”
“Different.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Then asked—
“Do you hate Dad for being part of the system?”
That question hurt.
I thought of the tape.
Handle it.
My first marriage.
Gun removed before bedroom.
Late meetings.
Silence.
“I hated parts of him.”
“Maybe still do.”
Noah looked surprised.
“You’re married.”
“Marriage does not require pretending someone’s worst choices became good.”
Silence.
“I love who he became enough to tell the truth about who he was.”
Noah smiled slightly.
“That’s annoyingly quotable.”
“Don’t.”
He laughed.
Then his phone buzzed.
Message from editor.
Dominic Vale had disappeared from his Lisbon hotel.
Room empty.
Passport records showed no legal departure.
I stared.
“Noah.”
“I know.”
Gabriel called simultaneously.
His voice hard.
“Come straight home.”
This time Noah did not argue.
Immediate danger.
Different rule.
When we landed, federal agents were waiting.
Not for us.
For information.
Dominic’s Lisbon interview had coincided with another event in New York.
Someone had broken into Cross Holdings’ old off-site archive.
Nothing valuable stolen.
One thing missing.
The original Harbor Point environmental approval file.
Then Eli called.
“Dad.”
He sounded breathless.
“I think I know why.”
Gabriel put speaker on.
Eli continued—
“The old water line wasn’t the only hidden system.”
“What?”
“There’s a gas conduit under H-17.”
“Abandoned?”
“Supposedly.”
May you like
His next sentence made my blood turn cold.
“It’s still pressurized.”
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