Chapter 5 - The Scarred Mafia Boss Offered His Entire Fortune to Save Elena's Mother—But When His Missing Fiancée Finally Spoke, She Revealed Who Had Really Ordered the AttackVictor Sloane wanted the original records.
And he wanted me.
I stared at the blank phone screen.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
My mother was alive.
That should have been enough to make me grateful.
Instead, all I could think about was the fear in her eyes.
She had looked directly at the camera.
And I had seen something I hadn't seen since my father's funeral.
Helplessness.
My mother had always been the strong one.
The woman who worked double shifts.
The woman who stretched groceries across an entire week.
The woman who told us everything would be fine even when she was clearly terrified.
Now someone had taken that strength away from her.
And I wanted it back.
Dominic stood beside me.
His expression was cold.
"Victor wants the records."
Marcus nodded.
"Yes."
"And Elena."
I swallowed.
Dominic looked at me.
"No."
I frowned.
"What?"
"You're not going."
I crossed my arms.
"Dominic."
"No."
His jaw tightened.
"He's using you to get to me."
I stared.
"He's using my mother."
"I know."
"Then you understand why I can't just sit here."
Dominic closed his eyes.
For a moment, I thought he would argue.
Instead, he took a breath.
"You're right."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You're right."
He looked at me.
"But we need to make a plan with the investigators."
I stared.
He continued.
"I won't pretend I can protect everyone by giving orders."
Something in my chest softened.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
Then looked toward Marcus.
"Get the attorneys and investigators on the phone."
The next several hours passed in a blur.
Investigators examined the video.
Financial analysts reviewed the shipping records.
Marcus coordinated security.
And Dominic sat beside me at the kitchen table, refusing to leave until I'd eaten something.
I stared at the plate.
"Seriously?"
He looked up.
"What?"
"You're making me eat?"
"Yes."
I glanced at the eggs.
"Scrambled?"
He nodded.
"Soft."
I smiled despite myself.
"You remembered."
Dominic looked at me.
"Of course."
I picked up my fork.
Then tasted them.
And immediately frowned.
He watched me.
"What?"
I swallowed.
"Dominic."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Yes?"
"These are terrible."
For a moment, he stared.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
And I laughed too.
Not because anything was funny.
But because for a few seconds, we were two people sitting in a kitchen.
Not a mafia boss and a woman whose mother had been kidnapped.
Just Dominic and Elena.
And somehow, that mattered.
By late afternoon, investigators identified the location where Victor's video had been recorded.
A private estate outside the city.
The property was registered through several companies.
One of them had previously been associated with Julian Vale.
Dominic stared at the documents.
"Of course."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"Victor never stopped using my family."
His expression darkened.
"He built everything around our names."
I swallowed.
"Can the police get in?"
"They're working on it."
I looked toward the window.
"Then we wait."
Dominic nodded.
"Yes."
For once, neither of us argued.
The breakthrough came from the digital recorder my father had hidden.
Elena, if you're hearing this...
I had listened to those words so many times that I could almost hear my father's voice without pressing play.
But the investigators discovered something we'd missed.
A second file.
Hidden beneath an ordinary audio recording.
It contained a list of shipment numbers.
Dates.
Account references.
And a name.
VICTOR SLOANE.
Beneath it was another name.
JULIAN VALE.
But the final entry made Dominic go completely still.
EDWARD VALE.
His father.
I stared.
"Dominic?"
He didn't answer.
I touched his arm.
"Your father?"
Dominic closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked as though the floor had disappeared beneath him.
Then he whispered:
"He knew."
I swallowed.
"Maybe."
Dominic shook his head.
"He knew."
His voice broke.
"My father knew what Victor was doing."
I looked at the documents.
Then at him.
"That doesn't mean he ordered the attack."
Dominic stared.
"No."
A pause.
"But it means he helped create the system that made it possible."
That evening, Victor called again.
This time, investigators were ready to preserve the call and gather information from it.
Dominic answered.
Victor appeared on the screen.
He smiled.
"Dominic."
Dominic's voice was cold.
"Where are they?"
Victor leaned back.
"Impatient as always."
"Where are Margaret and Amelia?"
Victor's smile faded slightly.
"Alive."
"Show me."
A pause.
Then the camera shifted.
My mother appeared.
I covered my mouth.
"Mom!"
Her eyes widened.
"Elena?"
I began crying.
"I'm here!"
She shook her head.
"Sweetheart, don't come."
Victor moved the camera away.
"Touching."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"Let them go."
Victor laughed softly.
"And lose my leverage?"
He shook his head.
"No."
Then a woman's voice spoke from somewhere offscreen.
"Victor."
The camera shifted.
Amelia Cross appeared.
I stopped breathing.
She looked older than in the photographs.
Her hair was shorter.
Her face thinner.
But her eyes were unmistakable.
Dominic gripped the table.
"Amelia?"
She stared at him.
For a moment, she didn't speak.
Then whispered:
"Dominic."
His face crumpled.
"You're alive."
Tears filled her eyes.
"Yes."
He covered his mouth.
I watched him struggle to breathe.
Seven years.
Seven years of grief.
Seven years of believing she had died.
And now she was looking at him through a screen.
Dominic whispered:
"I'm sorry."
Amelia shook her head.
"No."
Her voice broke.
"Don't apologize."
Victor stepped into view.
"Enough."
Amelia looked toward him.
Then suddenly said:
"Dominic, listen to me."
Victor's expression changed.
"Amelia."
She ignored him.
"Your father didn't order the attack."
Dominic went still.
"What?"
Amelia's voice shook.
"He found out what Victor was doing."
Victor moved toward her.
"Stop talking."
But Amelia continued.
"Edward was going to expose him."
Dominic stared.
"And Julian?"
Amelia swallowed.
"Julian helped Victor."
Victor reached toward the camera.
But before the screen went dark, Amelia shouted:
"DOMINIC, YOUR FATHER WAS MURDERED TOO!"
The call ended.
The room went silent.
Dominic stared at the screen.
His father.
Edward Vale.
The man he'd spent years believing had died from a stroke.
Murdered.
I looked at him.
His face was white.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then he stood.
Walked toward the window.
And pressed one hand against the glass.
I followed.
"Dominic."
He shook his head.
"Not now."
I stopped.
He stood motionless.
Then whispered:
"Everyone."
My chest tightened.
"What?"
He turned.
His eyes were filled with tears.
"Everyone I loved."
I swallowed.
"My father. Amelia. My brother."
His voice broke.
"Victor took everything."
I stepped closer.
"No."
He stared.
I took his hand.
"He took years."
My eyes filled.
"He took people."
I squeezed his fingers.
"But he didn't take everything."
Dominic looked at me.
I touched his cheek.
Carefully.
Near the scar.
"You're still here."
His eyes closed.
"And so am I."
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Dominic pulled me into his arms.
And held me as though he was afraid the world might disappear.
The rescue operation began shortly after midnight.
Investigators had obtained authorization to enter the estate.
Specialized teams approached the property.
Dominic and I waited at a secure location.
Neither of us was allowed near the operation.
I hated every second.
Every minute felt like an hour.
I watched the clock.
12:17.
12:26.
12:41.
Then the first report arrived.
The property had been entered.
Several guards were detained.
A second report followed.
Investigators had found rooms that appeared to have been used to hold people against their will.
But the women weren't there.
My heart dropped.
Then another message arrived.
A vehicle had left the property shortly before the operation.
Investigators were following leads.
I closed my eyes.
Not again.
Please.
Not again.
Dominic held my hand.
"We're not giving up."
I nodded.
But I couldn't speak.
At 2:43 a.m., exactly twelve hours after the time I'd accidentally entered Dominic's house two days earlier, Marcus received a call.
His expression changed.
I stopped breathing.
"What?"
He looked at Dominic.
Then at me.
"They found the vehicle."
My knees weakened.
Dominic stood.
"And?"
Marcus swallowed.
"Margaret Brooks is safe."
I began crying.
"Mom?"
He nodded.
"She's being taken to the hospital for evaluation."
I covered my face.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Then I looked up.
"Amelia?"
Marcus's expression changed.
"She's alive."
Dominic closed his eyes.
But Marcus wasn't finished.
"Victor Sloane was arrested."
I stared.
"Arrested?"
He nodded.
"He's in custody."
For the first time in days, I felt the air return to my lungs.
Dominic gripped the back of a chair.
Then slowly sat down.
I knelt beside him.
He looked at me.
"It's over?"
I shook my head gently.
"Not all of it."
His expression changed.
I smiled through tears.
"But the worst part might finally be ending."
We reached the hospital shortly before dawn.
My mother was sitting in bed.
A blanket covered her shoulders.
Her face was pale.
But when she saw me, she smiled.
"Elena."
I rushed toward her.
"Mom!"
I hugged her carefully.
She began crying.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"No."
"Sweetheart—"
"No."
I held her tighter.
"You're here."
She kissed my forehead.
"I'm here."
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered:
"Your father would be so proud of you."
I began crying again.
Across the hallway, Dominic stood outside Amelia's room.
He looked terrified.
I approached him.
"What?"
He swallowed.
"I don't know what to say."
I smiled sadly.
"Then don't plan a speech."
He looked at me.
"Elena."
I took his hand.
"Go see her."
His eyes filled.
"What about us?"
The question surprised me.
I looked at him.
Then smiled gently.
"Dominic, you loved her."
He swallowed.
"Yes."
"And you thought she was dead."
He nodded.
"You deserve the truth."
His expression softened.
I squeezed his hand.
"So does she."
For a moment, he stared at me.
Then whispered:
"You're extraordinary."
I laughed softly.
"No."
I glanced down at my shoes.
"I tripped over a perfectly flat hallway five minutes ago."
Dominic smiled.
Then leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
"Extraordinary."
He entered Amelia's room alone.
I waited outside.
For almost an hour.
When he emerged, his eyes were red.
But something in his face had changed.
He looked lighter.
Not happy.
Not yet.
But relieved.
I stood.
"How is she?"
He nodded.
"She's safe."
I smiled.
"Good."
Dominic looked at me.
"Elena."
I swallowed.
"Yes?"
He took my hands.
"There's something you need to know."
My heart stumbled.
"What?"
He looked toward Amelia's room.
Then back at me.
"Amelia and I aren't getting back together."
I stared.
He continued.
"We loved each other once."
His voice softened.
"But seven years changed us."
I looked down.
Dominic lifted my chin gently.
"She told me something."
"What?"
He smiled faintly.
"She said the woman who made me laugh again must be very special."
My eyes filled.
I laughed softly.
"She sounds lovely."
"She is."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Dominic said:
"Elena, I don't know what happens next."
I nodded.
"Neither do I."
He squeezed my hands.
"But I know I want to find out with you."
My heart felt too full.
I smiled.
"Even if I destroy your kitchen?"
He laughed.
"Especially then."
That afternoon, my mother asked to speak with Dominic privately.
I waited outside her room.
Twenty minutes later, Dominic emerged carrying an envelope.
His expression was strange.
I frowned.
"What happened?"
He looked at me.
"Your mother gave me something."
"What?"
He handed me the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Thomas Brooks.
Standing beside a younger Dominic Vale.
They were smiling.
I stared.
"You knew him?"
Dominic nodded.
"I met him once."
My heart pounded.
"When?"
"Before the fire."
I looked at the photograph.
Then noticed the writing on the back.
My father's handwriting.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, FIND DOMINIC. HE'S THE ONLY VALE WHO DOESN'T KNOW THE TRUTH.
I stopped breathing.
Dominic stared at the words.
Then whispered:
"Your father was trying to protect me."
I looked at him.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I reached for his hand.
He held it.
And I realized that the story connecting our families had begun long before I walked into his kitchen.
Long before I saw his scar.
Long before he asked me to stay.
But what happened next would be our choice.
Not Victor's.
Not Julian's.
May you like
Not the past.
Ours.
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