Chapter 4 - The Hidden Frequency
Inside the grand study, Dominic sat on the leather sofa while Vincent carefully stripped down the orthopedic brace using a precision screwdriver set.
Ellie's wooden latch toy lay open on the glass coffee table beside a small, cylindrical black object no larger than a button. Vincent had extracted it from the hollow interior of the brace's lower aluminum hinge.
"Micro-transmitter," Vincent muttered, placing the device under a magnifying desk lamp. "High-frequency, short-range signal. It’s been transmitting your exact biometrics and location data 24/7."
Dominic stared at the tiny bug. "Who bought it?"
"The serial number is military grade," Vincent said, pulling up a forensic database on his tablet. "This isn't local syndicate tech. This is defense-contractor level equipment. Arthur didn't have the connections to source this."
"Which means someone bigger was funding Arthur's coup," Dominic realized. "Someone who wanted the Vale shipping lanes cleared out."
A quiet knock came at the study door. Clare stepped inside, holding a tray with tea and two warm blankets. She looked exhausted, her hair falling loosely around her neck, but her posture was surprisingly composed.
"Ellie is sleeping in your room, Mr. Vale," Clare said softly. "The doors are locked."
"Thank you, Clare," Dominic said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "Sit down. Please."
Clare hesitated, then sat on the edge of the leather cushion. "Mr. Vale... I heard what Mr. Voss said about Dock 42. Are your men down there in danger?"
"My men at the dock don't know the perimeter security has been compromised," Dominic said heavily. "The estate's radio jamming system is active due to the lockdown. We can't transmit an outgoing signal without disabling the main gate defenses."
"Then let me go," Clare offered immediately.
Dominic looked at her in surprise. "What?"
"I know the side roads through the industrial district," Clare said, her voice steadying. "My brother worked at the port for five years. I used to drop his lunch off at Dock 42 every Tuesday. The security guards at the south gate know my face. If I drive out through the delivery tunnel, I can reach the harbor master before Arthur's men attack."
"It's too dangerous," Vincent interjected sharply. "Arthur's mercenaries are patrolling the outer fence line."
"They're looking for armored SUVs," Clare reasoned, looking straight into Dominic's eyes. "They aren't looking for a housemaid in a white sedan taking out laundry bins."
Dominic studied her face. Beneath her quiet, humble demeanor lay an fierce, protective resilience. She wasn't just doing this for her job—she was doing it because she knew that if Dominic fell, there would be no one left to protect her daughter from the wolves outside.
"Vincent," Dominic said slowly. "Give her the keys to the unmarked Volvo in the service bay. And give her a encrypted satellite radio."
Dominic stood up, walking over to Clare. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, heavy brass key on a leather cord. He placed it gently in her hand.
"This opens the private safe in my master bedroom," Dominic whispered. "If anything happens to me tonight, that safe contains passports, deeds to three properties in Montreal, and enough cash to ensure Ellie never wants for anything in her life. Take it."
Clare stared down at the key, her throat tightening. "Mr. Vale... I can't accept this."
"You already saved my life through your daughter," Dominic said softly. "Now let me protect yours."
Twenty minutes later, the iron gate of the underground service tunnel swung open silently. A plain white sedan glided out into the torrential Chicago rain, its headlights switched off as it navigated the dark alleyways leading away from the Lake Michigan estate.
Inside the study, Dominic turned to the bank of security monitors. He tapped the microphone linked to the estate's internal PA system.
"Attention council members," Dominic’s voice echoed through the grand house, cold and resonant. "The vote on my leadership is now open. But before you cast your ballots, I suggest you look out your windows."
In the west wing, the five remaining council members gathered at the glass window, looking down at the courtyard.
Dominic walked out onto the stone balcony, throwing his cane over the iron railing. It clattered onto the wet flagstones below.
He walked down the spiral staircase into the courtyard, stepping smoothly through the rain without a limp, his posture towering and absolute.
"The boss is walking," one of the council members whispered, horror dawning on his face. "He's completely healed."
Inside the dark vault below the wine cellar, Arthur Voss sat tied to an iron chair, listening to the footsteps echoing above.
May you like
The door opened, and Dominic stepped into the dim light.
"You thought you were buying an empire, Arthur," Dominic said, tossing the small black micro-transmitter onto the cold concrete floor between them. "Now tell me who paid for the bug, or you'll spend the rest of your short life finding out what happens when I stop being a legitimate businessman."
