Chapter 4 - The House on Lockdown
Within ten minutes, the Vale estate transformed into a military fortress.
Vincent Hale had slammed the heavy iron gates at the perimeter of the thirty-acre Lake Michigan property. Heavy armored Suburbans blocked the long driveway, and twenty armed security guards in black suits fanned out across the manicured lawns.
Arthur Voss sat in the library, stripped of his phone, guarded by two heavy-set men with automatic rifles. Dr. Evans was held in the basement wine cellar, weeping into his knees, spilling every detail of Arthur’s extortion scheme to Vincent’s interrogation team.
In the master suite upstairs, Dominic sat on the edge of a leather sofa while a trusted military paramedic thoroughly sanitized his left calf and removed the tampered brace entirely.
"The nerve isn't permanently damaged, Mr. Vale," the paramedic reported, wrapping a clean compression sleeve around Dominic's knee. "With proper physical therapy and no further mechanical interference, you'll be walking unassisted in two weeks."
Dominic nodded, waving the paramedic away.
He stood up, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the Lake Michigan storm was reaching its peak, heavy waves crashing violently against the stone sea wall below the estate.
A soft knock sounded at the heavy oak bedroom door.
Vincent stepped inside. "Boss. We locked down Voss's financial firm in downtown Chicago. His secondary partners are already pulling their capital. The board vote is completely dead."
"What about the maid and her daughter?" Dominic asked, not turning around.
Vincent paused. "Clare Rowan and the kid? They're downstairs in the secondary kitchen. Clare is terrified. She thinks you're going to eliminate them because the girl saw too much."
Dominic turned around, his dark brows furrowing. "Eliminate them? I'm a businessman, Vincent, not a monster. She saved my life."
"She’s a liability to Arthur’s remaining loyalists," Vincent warned softly. "Arthur’s brother, Marcus Voss, controls the heavy shipping docks in South Chicago. If Marcus finds out that a four-year-old child blew up Arthur’s coup, he won't hesitate to clear the board."
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits of dark steel.
"Marcus Voss doesn't touch anyone under my roof," Dominic said coldly. "Bring Clare and the child up here."
Five minutes later, Clare walked into the master suite, holding Ellie's small hand so tightly her knuckles were white. Ellie was carrying her wooden latch toy, looking around the massive bedroom with wide, innocent eyes.
"Mr. Vale," Clare stammered, her voice trembling. "Please... we won't say a word to anyone. We'll pack our things and leave Chicago tonight. You'll never see us again."
Dominic walked over to them, his gait surprisingly steady without the brace. He lowered himself onto one knee in front of little Ellie.
"Ellie," Dominic said gently.
Ellie looked up into his dark eyes. "Is your leg better?"
Dominic offered a small, rare smile—a genuine warmth that surprised even Vincent standing by the door. "My leg is much better, thanks to you."
He looked up at Clare. "You aren't leaving Chicago, Clare. If you step outside these gates tonight, Arthur's associates will track you down within two hours."
Clare’s face drained of all color. "What... what are you saying?"
"I'm saying you and Ellie are moving into the east wing of this castle permanently," Dominic declared. "You will have a full security detail, a private tutor for Ellie, and a salary five times what I was paying you to fold linens."
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Clare gasped. "I can't accept that! We're domestic staff—"
"You're under my protection now," Dominic interrupted, standing up tall. "And nobody under Dominic Vale’s protection ever goes hungry, frightened, or defenseless again."
