Dominic Carver did not look at the captain, nor did he look at his relieved younger brother. His eyes remained fixed on the little girl whose small fingers were still stained with blue w

The grand study on the ground floor of the Carver mansion was lit only by the crackling fire in the large stone fireplace. Deep mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, and heavy velvet curtains blocked out the darkness of the night outside.

Owen Carver stood by the bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch, his hands still trembling slightly from the night's events.

The heavy double doors opened, and Dominic walked in. He walked over to the desk, sitting down behind the dark wood, looking at his younger brother in silence.

"Dominic," Owen said, turning around with a nervous smile. "Did Grant find anything out from the CCTV footage? Any leads on who tried to blow up the boat?"

Dominic watched Owen's face carefully—taking in the subtle sweat on his forehead, the frantic blinking of his eyes, the fake concern in his voice.

"Why were you so eager to board the boat today, Owen?" Dominic asked quietly, leaning back in his leather chair.

Owen blinked, caught off guard. "What? What kind of question is that? We had dinner plans! The guests were waiting!"

"You argued with me," Dominic noted, his tone flat. "When Lily told us about the bomb, you called it ridiculous. You told me to ignore a five-year-old child and push off from the dock. If I had listened to you... we would both be dead right now."

Owen let out a forced, defensive laugh. "For God's sake, Dominic! I didn't know there was a real bomb! I thought the kid was making up stories! Why are you questioning me like I'm a suspect?"

Dominic reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a thick black leather notebook—Julian Vance's personal ledger—and tossed it onto the desk between them.

"Julian is downstairs," Dominic revealed calmly.

Owen froze. The glass of scotch slipped from his fingers, shattering onto the hardwood floor, dark amber liquid pooling around his expensive shoes.

"He told me everything, Owen," Dominic whispered.

Owen’s face transformed from nervous confusion into pale, horrified panic. He stumbled back against the bar, his chest heaving. "Dominic... wait! Let me explain! You don't understand!"

"You sold my life to Antonio Moretti for twenty million dollars," Dominic said, standing up slowly from behind the desk, his massive frame casting a terrifying shadow across the room. "I raised you, Owen. When our father died, I took the burden of this family on my shoulders so you could go to college, so you could live a clean, wealthy life. And you tried to burn me alive."

"They were going to kill me!" Owen screamed, breaking down in hysterical panic. "Moretti's men held a gun to my head! I lost the money at their tables! They gave me no choice!"

"You had a choice!" Dominic roared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings like a thunderclap. "You could have come to me! I am your brother! I would have paid your debt! I would have destroyed Moretti for threatening you! But instead, you chose to put a bomb under my feet—and under our mother's feet!"

"I tried to tell Evelyn to stay on the dock!" Owen wept, falling to his knees, clutching his hands together in desperate plea. "Please, Dominic! Don't kill me! I'm your brother! Our father's blood runs in my veins!"

Dominic walked around the desk, stopping right in front of his kneeling brother. He looked down at him with an overwhelming mixture of heartbreak and cold, absolute disgust.

"Our father's blood built this family on loyalty," Dominic said softly. "You are a coward, Owen. And a coward in our house is a poison that will destroy everything."

The doors of the study opened, and Grant walked in with two heavy-set guards.

"Boss?" Grant asked quietly.

Dominic turned his back on his brother, walking over to the window to look out at the dark estate grounds.

"Take him to the northern safehouse," Dominic ordered coldly. "Strip him of the Carver name, his accounts, and his trust fund. He will be locked in that room under twenty-four-hour guard until I deal with Antonio Moretti."

"Dominic! No! Please! Brother!" Owen shrieked as the guards grabbed him by his arms, dragging him out of the room, his crying echoes fading down the grand hallway.

Dominic stood alone by the window, resting his forehead against the cold glass. The pain of his brother's betrayal cut deeper than any bullet he had ever taken.

Suddenly, a tiny voice spoke from the doorway.

"Mr. Dominic?"

Dominic turned around quickly.

Standing near the threshold of the study was Lily. She was wearing a pair of soft pink pajamas that were far too big for her, holding her blue crayon in one hand and clutching Dominic's gold signet ring in the other.

Grace was standing right behind her, looking mortified. "Mr. Carver, I am so sorry! She woke up wanting a glass of water and ran down the stairs before I could catch her—"

Dominic held up his hand, stopping Grace.

He slowly crouched down on the hardwood floor, wiping the exhaustion and pain from his face, forcing a gentle smile for the little girl.

"Hey, Lily," Dominic said softly. "What are you doing up so late?"

Lily walked into the study, completely unfazed by the broken glass on the floor, stopping right beside Dominic. She looked up at his tired gray eyes, then held out her small hand, opening her fingers to show him the gold signet ring.

"I kept your promise ring safe," Lily whispered proudly.

Dominic looked at the shiny gold ring in her small palm, then up at her innocent, trusting face. In a night filled with dark treason and bloody shadows, this child was the only beacon of pure light in his world.