Chapter 10 - THE MAN WHO WANTED THE HEIRS GONE
Dominic’s arrest should have made me feel safer.
It didn’t.
The more investigators uncovered, the more obvious it became that Dominic had known about the triplets almost from birth.
He paid the medical-records company.
He financed the surveillance.
He pressured preschool staff through donations to gain access to public event schedules.
He hired private investigators.
He never physically approached the children.
That almost made it worse.
He had turned their childhood into a spreadsheet.
The question remained why.
Money was part of it.
Control.
Succession.
But Sebastian believed there was more.
Roman found it in a set of old trust correspondence.
Dominic had significant personal debt.
Not ordinary debt.
Hundreds of millions tied to failed real-estate developments and private guarantees.
If Sebastian died childless under the amended family structure, Dominic’s branch would receive enough voting control and distributions to rescue him.
If Sebastian had children, Dominic’s financial future collapsed.
Three babies had been born into a balance-sheet conflict they never knew existed.
When Sebastian told me, I sat in silence.
Then I said, “This family needs therapy.”
He laughed once.
“I’ve started.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Therapy.”
“Actual therapy?”
“Yes.”
“With a licensed professional?”
“Yes.”
“Not some priest your grandfather pays?”
He almost looked offended.
“A psychologist.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Good.”
“You approve?”
“I’m shocked.”
“Same.”
That became another change.
Sebastian stopped telling me only what he was doing to fix external problems.
He started telling me what he was doing to fix himself.
He attended parenting sessions too.
Not because the court ordered them.
Because he had no idea how to be a father.
The first thing he learned was that intimidating a four-year-old into bedtime rarely succeeded.
Ivy explained that.
Loudly.
The second thing he learned was that all three children would ask the same question separately to see whether his answers changed.
Inherited suspicion.
Probably from both parents.
The third was that Noah hated yelling.
That lesson mattered.
One afternoon, Sebastian took a business call during a supervised visit.
His voice sharpened.
Not screaming.
Just the old command.
Noah disappeared under the dining table.
Sebastian noticed.
He ended the call.
Then crouched.
“What happened?”
Noah shook his head.
I started to answer.
Sebastian raised one finger—not at me, at himself.
He waited.
Noah finally whispered, “You sounded mad.”
Sebastian’s face changed.
“I was.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“Mom says mad gets on everybody.”
I had said that once after the triplets heard neighbors fighting.
Sebastian sat on the floor.
“Your mom is right.”
He lowered his voice.
“I’m sorry.”
Noah slowly came out.
Sebastian did not touch him until Noah climbed into his lap.
That evening, he moved all business calls outside visit hours.
Small choices.
Hard to fake.
The investigation into Dominic produced another discovery.
He had arranged the Central Park encounter.
Not perfectly.
But deliberately.
The anonymous caller who tipped Sebastian’s security team about a supposed threat near the park worked indirectly for Dominic.
Sebastian’s route changed.
He crossed the exact path where I usually walked with the children.
My blood turned cold when Roman explained.
“Sophie—” no, wrong child. Need stay consistent. Ivy, Owen, Noah.
“So Dominic wanted Sebastian to see us.”
“Yes,” Roman said.
“Why?”
“To trigger chaos.”
Sebastian leaned against my kitchen counter.
“He needed proof the children existed publicly.”
“For the custody filing?”
“Partly.”
“Then why hide them four years?”
“Because his financial position changed.”
Roman opened documents.
A major debt came due in six months.
Dominic needed trust control sooner.
If Sebastian discovered the children and reacted badly, Dominic could argue he was unstable.
If Sebastian tried to seize them, Dominic could trigger public scandal and a family vote.
If I fled, he could continue pressuring custody and inheritance claims.
He expected Sebastian to behave like the man from four years ago.
Possessive.
Furious.
Immediate.
He expected me to run.
I did.
The only part Dominic miscalculated was what Sebastian did after catching me.
He did not take the children.
He asked.
Badly at first.
Then better.
“He wanted us to destroy each other,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Sebastian said.
I looked at him.
“Would we have?”
Four years earlier?
Absolutely.
Now?
I didn’t know.
Roman’s phone buzzed.
He read something.
“Dominic wants to speak with Sebastian.”
“No,” I said.
Sebastian looked at me.
I corrected myself.
“Sorry.”
His choice.
“I don’t think you should.”
He nodded.
“I agree.”
Progress on both sides.
Dominic remained in detention pending hearing because the stalking and obstruction evidence was stronger now.
Vittorio visited him once.
Then called Sebastian.
I was present when he answered.
“Grandfather.”
Vittorio’s voice came through speaker.
“Dominic says you’re destroying him.”
Sebastian remained calm.
“He made choices.”
“He is still family.”
“So are Owen, Ivy, and Noah.”
Silence.
Vittorio said, “I know.”
Something had changed in the old man too.
Too late for innocence.
Perhaps not too late for truth.
“I want to see them,” he said.
My entire body stiffened.
Sebastian looked at me.
No decision.
Just a question.
I shook my head.
“Not yet,” Sebastian told him.
Vittorio exhaled.
“You ask her permission?”
“Yes.”
“You’re their father.”
“Yes.”
“Then act like it.”
Sebastian’s expression changed.
“I am.”
Silence.
Then:
“That’s why I asked.”
He ended the call.
I stared.
“That was…”
“What?”
“Healthy.”
He looked vaguely offended.
“Don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m trying.”
Two weeks later, Dominic’s lawyer offered cooperation.
He would disclose the full interception scheme, trust manipulation, and surveillance network in exchange for reduced exposure on financial charges.
Prosecutors negotiated.
I hated it.
Sebastian did not comment.
Then Dominic’s statement revealed the final piece.
Vittorio had indeed begun the concealment.
But after Noah’s birth, the old man had planned to tell Sebastian.
Dominic stopped him.
How?
He forged a medical report suggesting I had accepted two million dollars from a rival-connected charity and intended to leave the country with the children.
Vittorio believed I was still dangerous.
The pattern repeated.
Forged evidence.
Fear.
No one asking me.
Dominic had learned the family language perfectly.
Vittorio delayed.
Then years passed.
By the time doubts arose, revealing the truth meant admitting what he had done.
Pride handled the rest.
I read Dominic’s statement twice.
Then looked at Sebastian.
“This whole thing happened because none of you talk to people.”
He almost smiled.
“That is a painfully simple summary.”
“It’s accurate.”
“Yes.”
Then I reached the last page.
Dominic claimed he never intended physical harm to the children.
His goal was control.
Distance.
Disinheritance.
But one line stood out.
If Sebastian had reacted violently in Central Park, Dominic planned to release surveillance photographs to the press and seek an emergency family vote removing him.
He built the trap around Sebastian’s worst habits.
And Sebastian escaped it only because he had changed enough before he even knew he needed to.
I looked at him.
“What happened to you in four years?”
He was quiet.
“My father died.”
I knew that.
Two years earlier.
Sebastian had not contacted me.
“I took over completely.”
He continued.
“I won everything I was supposed to want.”
His eyes moved around my small kitchen.
“And?”
“I hated my life.”
That surprised me.
“No one told me.”
“I made sure they didn’t.”
“Clarissa?”
“She knew some.”
“Why get engaged?”
“Because it made sense.”
I laughed.
“That sounds romantic.”
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“I decided love had made me weak once.”
His voice softened.
“So I chose something that required none.”
The engagement.
Clarissa’s family.
Corporate alliances.
Approval.
No vulnerability.
Then he saw me in Central Park.
Three children.
Proof that the one thing he thought destroyed him had been built on a lie.
“Do you regret meeting me?” I asked.
Sebastian looked almost offended.
“No.”
“Our marriage?”
“No.”
“The divorce?”
“Every day.”
Silence.
I believed him.
That did not mean I forgave him.
But belief was no longer impossible.
That evening, he helped Ivy build a dinosaur puzzle.
Owen climbed onto his back.
Noah sat beside his leg reading.
Sebastian looked up.
I was watching.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled slightly.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m observing.”
“Dangerous.”
Maybe.
Because somewhere between court filings, intercepted letters, pancakes, therapy, and a hallway floor, Sebastian had stopped looking like the man I needed to escape.
He still carried shadows.
May you like
So did I.
But for the first time, I wondered whether our future might be something other than survival apart.
