Chapter 4 - THE SNAKE IN THE HOUSE
Dominic stood up slowly. All the vulnerability, the regret, and the emotional turmoil vanished from his face, replaced by the terrifying, cold killer that made Chicago's underworld bow to him.
"Stay here," Dominic told Claire, his voice dropping an octave.
"No," Claire said, closing her laptop. "Julian set me up. He tried to ruin my life and frame me for grand larceny. I am going upstairs."
"Claire, it's not safe—"
"I was shot at twenty minutes ago, Dominic," Claire said, standing up and grabbing her bag. "I am already in the middle of your war. Let me finish it."
Dominic stared at her for two long seconds. Then, he reached into his waistband, pulled out a compact matte-black pistol, disengaged the safety, and handed it to her handle-first.
"Do you know how to use this?" he asked softly.
"You taught me on our honeymoon," Claire said, taking the heavy metal weapon and slipping it into her jacket pocket.
"If anyone other than me or Marcus comes through that door without my permission," Dominic said, "you shoot them."
"I know how to protect myself," she replied quietly. "I've had to do it all night."
They took the private elevator back up to the main level. The foyer was still littered with broken glass and smell of cordite, but the security team had draped heavy black curtains over the shattered window frames.
Julian Carver walked through the side entrance, flanked by two thick-necked men in leather jackets. Julian was forty, slick, dressed in a tailored navy suit with a silk handkerchief in his pocket. He looked nervous, his eyes darting frantically around the room until they landed on Dominic.
"Dominic!" Julian gasped, rushing forward with fake concern. "My God! I heard snipers fired on the house! Is everyone okay?"
Julian's eyes then flicked to Claire, who stood silently beside Dominic. A flicker of sheer shock—and intense disappointment—crossed Julian's face before he quickly masked it.
"Claire," Julian said smoothly. "You're still here? I thought... well, after the accounting news, I assumed you had left."
"I tried to leave, Julian," Claire said, her tone dripping with calm venom. "But someone hired a hitman to make sure I didn't reach the front gates."
Julian laughed nervously, adjusting his cuffs. "Hitman? Come on, Claire. You're exaggerating. It was probably a rival syndicate targeting Dominic."
Dominic stepped forward. He didn't pull a gun. He didn't shout. He simply walked until he was standing six inches from his cousin.
"Julian," Dominic said quietly.
"Yeah, Dom?"
"Where did you get the IP logs you gave me this afternoon?"
Julian blinked, a bead of sweat forming at his hairline. "I... I told you. My tech guy pulled them from the foundation's main server when the four million flagged red."
"Your tech guy is fast," Dominic noted. "Considering the breach was routed through a closed internal server in my private library."
Julian froze. "What?"
"The four million didn't leave through Claire's terminal," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "It left through the library terminal at three in the morning. When you were staying in the guest wing."
Julian's two bodyguards instantly shifted their weight, their hands reaching toward their jackets.
CRACK!
Before Julian's men could even unbutton their coats, Marcus and three Carver guards stepped out from behind the pillars, their heavy submachine guns trained directly on Julian's team.
"Drop your weapons," Marcus growled.
The two bodyguards slowly raised their hands, sliding their sidearms out and dropping them onto the marble floor.
Julian turned pale, his slick demeanor falling apart like wet tissue paper. "Dominic... listen to me! She's lying to you! She's manipulating the servers! She's an accountant—she knows how to cover her tracks!"
"I don't need to cover my tracks, Julian," Claire said, walking up beside Dominic. She pulled her phone from her pocket and displayed a fresh screen. "Because five minutes ago, I re-routed the four million dollars back from the Cayman account it was sent to."
Julian's jaw dropped. "That's... that's impossible. That account was encrypted!"
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"It was encrypted with a basic 256-bit hash," Claire said with a cold, dismissive smile. "Your offshore broker uses the same lazy password structure as your library login, Julian. The money is back in the Carver Relief Fund. And the transfer record now carries your personal tax ID."
Julian stared at her in utter horror. He had tried to frame a financial genius, completely forgetting that she was ten times smarter than he would ever be.
