Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT THE KRETTI ESTATE BURNED|
Dominic moved Clara into a guarded apartment before returning to the estate.
She refused to stay behind.
"If someone wants to burn the house, I'm not going to sit in a hotel waiting for the news."
"They threatened you."
"They threatened both of us."
"Clara—"
"Don't use my name like a locked door."
He stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, he nodded.
"Stay beside me. If anything happens, you follow my instructions."
"If your instructions make sense."
Despite everything, he almost smiled.
They arrived at the estate shortly before midnight.
The house appeared quiet. Security guards stood near the front entrance, and lights glowed in the upper windows. Dominic reviewed the camera footage with his chief of security, Matteo, while Clara examined the notebook under a desk lamp.
One page contained a series of fabric measurements that seemed meaningless until she noticed the numbers matched the lengths of the old workshop's cutting table.
Her father had used tailoring terminology to encode information.
"Dominic," she called.
He came to her side.
"These aren't measurements. They're coordinates."
She pointed to a sequence of numbers.
"They correspond to storage units in the basement."
Before he could answer, the fire alarm erupted.
A guard shouted from the hallway.
"Smoke in the west wing!"
Dominic seized Clara's hand.
"Outside. Now."
They reached the staircase as smoke rolled beneath the ceiling. Staff members rushed toward the exits. Matteo directed them toward the garden while Dominic checked the upper landing.
"Where are you going?" Clara demanded.
"My father's study."
"That's where the smoke is coming from!"
"There's a safe inside."
"And there are people outside who need you alive!"
He stopped.
For one second, she thought he would ignore her.
Then he turned away from the stairs.
They escaped through the garden doors as flames spread behind the study windows.
The fire department arrived within minutes. No one died, but the west wing suffered extensive damage. The safe was destroyed, and several old documents disappeared.
Dominic stood in the rain, watching the firefighters work.
Clara approached him.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Look at me."
He turned.
She examined his face and found a small cut above his eyebrow.
"You are a terrible liar."
"So I've been told."
She pressed a clean cloth against the cut.
His eyes softened.
"You saved me from making a stupid decision."
"I saved you from running into a burning building for a box."
"It wasn't just a box."
"I know."
For a moment, the rain seemed to quiet around them.
Dominic lifted his hand toward her cheek, then stopped.
"May I?"
Clara understood the question.
She nodded.
His fingers touched her face with a gentleness that made her chest ache.
"I don't know how to be the husband you deserve," he said.
"Then stop trying to be a husband from a contract. Start being the man who sits beside me when I'm frightened."
He leaned closer.
She could feel his breath against her cheek.
But before their lips met, Matteo hurried toward them.
"Boss. We found something in the surviving security footage."
He held out a tablet.
The recording showed a figure entering the west wing shortly before the alarm. The person wore a maintenance uniform and carried a metal case.
The face was obscured.
But the person paused beside the camera and looked directly into the lens.
Clara recognized the movement.
The slight tilt of the head.
The way the right hand rested against the hip.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
"No," she whispered.
Dominic looked at her.
"Who is it?"
Clara swallowed.
"That person taught me how to thread a needle."
It was her father's oldest friend.
May you like
The man who had carried her on his shoulders when she was a little girl.
And the man her mother had sworn was dead.
