Chapter 2 - The Velvet Trap
Hidden behind the half-closed service door, Dominic Mercer didn't move a muscle. Every instinct honed by years of surviving corporate and cartel warfare told him to strike immediately, to shatter the illusion Brooke had meticulously built. But patience was his greatest weapon. He wanted to hear the full extent of her greed.
In the pantry, Emma stood her ground, though her hands trembled slightly against the marble counter.
"The East Cottage belongs to the trust for Natalie and Noah, Miss Harrington," Emma said, keeping her voice steady through sheer willpower. "Mr. Dominic made that clear when they moved in."
Brooke let out a sharp, dismissive laugh that sounded like breaking glass. "Mr. Dominic is about to become my husband. And once the ring is on my finger, this entire estate—every brick, every acre, every trust—is subject to restructuring. Natalie is a leech. She uses her widow status to bleed this family dry, and that boy of hers is a constant reminder of weakness."
Brooke tossed the leather folder onto the counter, letting it slide across the polished wood. "Here are the revised occupancy terms. Natalie has forty-eight hours to pack her things and move into a townhouse in Providence. I’ve already had the real estate agents draw up the eviction notice for the cottage. It will make a wonderful studio for my yoga instructor."
Emma stared at the folder, horror pooling in her stomach. "You can't do this. Dominic loves his sister."
"Dominic loves power, Emma. And right now, he loves me," Brooke said, smoothing down the lapel of her coat with manicured fingers. "He’s blind to the sentimental baggage his family drags around. But I am clearing house. By Sunday, this estate will bear my stamp, and there won't be a trace of Natalie or her brat left to remind him of the past."
In the shadows, Dominic’s reflection in the dark glass of the wine corridor showed a face carved from ice. The woman he had believed was an anchor of stability in his chaotic world was nothing more than a parasite, plotting to evict his grieving sister and traumatized nephew from their ancestral sanctuary.
"Wake Natalie up," Brooke repeated, her voice dropping into a harsh demand. "And tell her I’ll be waiting in the conservatory. If she isn't down in ten minutes, I'll have security drag her things out to the rain myself."
Brooke turned on her heel, her designer heels clicking rhythmically against the floor as she walked away toward the front of the mansion.
Silence descended upon the pantry once more, save for the rhythmic patter of rain against the window panes.
Dominic stepped out of the shadows. His face was dangerously calm.
"Mr. Dominic," Emma whispered, tears of apprehension stinging her eyes. "What are you going to do?"
"Emma," Dominic said softly, his voice lacking any human warmth. "Bring me the master ledger from the safe. And call Marcus. Tell him the wedding is officially postponed."
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"Postponed?" Emma echoed.
"Cancelled," Dominic corrected coldly. "Permanently."
