Chapter 3 - The Trap ClosesFive minutes later, the heavy double doors of the master suite opened.
Julian Vance walked in first. He was dressed impeccably in a bespoke charcoal suit, carrying a leather briefcase, his hair perfectly coiffed. Beside him walked Dr. Arthur Sterling—a tall, thin man in his late fifties with gold-rimmed glasses and a heavy leather medical bag.
“Dominic?” Julian called out, his voice filled with that same artificial, sickly-sweet concern. “Dom, where are you? Dr. Sterling brought the new sedative prescription we discussed.”
They stepped into the study—and froze.
Dominic was sitting in the high-backed leather chair behind his grand desk. He wasn't wearing pajamas. He wasn't sweating. He wasn't shaking. He was sitting calmly, sipping a cup of black coffee, watching them with eyes that were terrifyingly lucid.
Beside him sat I, my hands resting on the three disassembled transducers lined up on the polished wood.
Julian’s eyes flicked from Dominic to me, then down to the small black plastic boxes on the desk.
I watched the color drain from his face in real-time. It was as if someone had pulled a plug at the base of his neck, draining every drop of blood from his cheeks.
“Dominic...” Julian stammered, his polished demeanor shattering in a fraction of a second. “What... what is this? Who is this woman?”
“This is Tess Logan,” Dominic said smoothly, setting his coffee cup down with a soft, deliberate clink against the saucer. “She’s my new Chief of Security Operations.”
Dr. Sterling took a step back toward the door, his hand trembling as he clutched his medical bag. “Dominic, you... you look agitated. Your cognitive levels are clearly unstable today. You shouldn't be engaging in business discussions—”
“Shut up, Arthur,” Dominic said. The tone wasn't loud, but it carried such raw, lethal authority that the doctor literally dropped his bag. It hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Dominic picked up one of the transducers from the desk and rolled it between his fingers.
“Low-frequency infrasound,” Dominic murmured, looking at Julian. “Ninety-second intervals. Calibrated specifically to interrupt REM sleep without triggering full conscious awakening. Clever, Julian. Truly clever. How long did it take Marcus to build them?”
Julian swallowed hard, his throat making a dry clicking sound. “Dominic, I... I don't know what you’re talking about. Is this another hallucination? Are you having a psychotic episode?”
I leaned forward, pulling a printed circuit diagram from my folder.
“The circuit board was soldered using silver-bearing alloy, Mr. Vance,” I said, looking directly into Julian’s panicked eyes. “The exact same batch purchased by BlueWave Tactical six weeks ago under purchase order 8802. Your brother signed the invoice.”
Julian’s eyes darted frantically around the room. He looked at Marco and Vince standing by the door, then at Sarah Miller, who was standing quietly in the corner holding a recording device.
He realized, in that single agonizing second, that there was no way out. The illusion had shattered. The quiet takeover was dead.
“You... you can’t prove anything,” Julian squeaked, his voice losing all its corporate sophistication. “So what? A piece of equipment was found in your room. That doesn't link me to it! I’m your proxy, Dominic! I’ve been trying to save this company while you lost your mind!”
“You didn't try to save it, Julian,” Dominic said, standing up slowly. He walked around the desk, stopping just inches from his cousin. “You sold forty percent of the harbor terminals to the Moretti syndicate in Boston three days ago. You forged my digital seal on the transfer documents.”
Julian gasped. “How... how do you know that?”
“Because while you thought I was hallucinating in this room, I was listening,” Dominic whispered, leaning down until his face was inches from Julian’s. “I heard every call you made from the hallway. I heard you tell Moretti that I’d be in a state hospital by the end of the month.”
Dr. Sterling suddenly turned and bolted for the suite door.
Before he could take three steps, Marco stepped into his path, grabbed the doctor by the lapels of his coat, and slammed him against the wall. The doctor gasped for air as Marco pulled a pair of heavy zip-ties from his tactical vest.
“Dominic, please!” Julian whimpered, dropping to his knees as Dominic’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder like an iron vise. “We’re family! It was Marcus! Marcus came up with the idea! He said you were getting too old, that you were going to ruin the company!”
“Family,” Dominic repeated, his voice devoid of emotion. “Family doesn't torture a man in his own bed for five months, Julian.”
Dominic looked at Sarah Miller. “Call the District Attorney. Tell him I have a gift for him—a full confession of corporate fraud, conspiracy to commit attempted murder, and illegal medical malpractice.”
As Marco zip-tied Julian’s wrists behind his back, Dominic turned to me.
May you like
The cold, ruthless expression on his face softened just a fraction as he looked at me standing beside his desk.
“Tess,” he said softly. “We’re just getting started. The people who bought those harbor terminals are coming to Chicago tonight to finalize the deal. And I think it’s time we give them a proper welcome.”
