Chapter 3 - The Claws of the Past
Three days passed in relative quiet, but Cameron Vance was not a man who surrendered his possessions easily.
Driven by frantic rage and a desperate need to maintain control over Nora, Cameron weaponized his family's high-level political connections. On Thursday morning, two corrupt city police detectives pulled up to the security gates of the Vane Estate, presenting a fraudulent emergency warrant claiming Dominic Vane was holding a mentally incapacitated woman against her will.
Inside his glass-walled study, Dominic stood behind his mahogany desk, casually sipping black coffee as his chief of security, Marco, briefed him on the situation outside the gate.
"They're threatening to bring city inspectors and federal marshals if we don't hand her over, Boss," Marco warned softly. "Cameron’s father called in favors with the Deputy Chief."
A cold, lethal smirk touched Dominic's lips. "Let them make noise, Marco. A barking dog only reveals where his throat is."
Dominic walked over to his wall safe, unlocked it, and pulled out a thick, black leather folder. For seventy-two hours, while Nora rested peacefully in the east wing, Dominic's vast intelligence network had been quietly pulling apart every thread of Cameron Vance’s life.
"Send those detectives away with the footage from the club showing Cameron assaulting Nora in the alley prior to her entry," Dominic ordered smoothly. "And then initiate Phase Two."
Dominic opened the folder on his desk, revealing a mountain of damning evidence. Cameron hadn't just abused Nora emotionally and physically; he was deeply in debt to offshore gambling syndicates. To cover his massive losses, Cameron had committed systematic wire fraud, embezzling over two million dollars from his father's charity foundation and transferring the funds through fake accounts created under Nora's forged signature.
Worse, Dominic’s men had located three previous police reports filed by former girlfriends of Cameron—all of which had been buried by paid-off precinct captains.
"He tried to turn the law into his weapon," Dominic murmured, his dark eyes glinting with ruthless satisfaction as he closed the folder. "Now I am going to use the truth to destroy him."
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He walked out of the study and down the sunlit corridor toward the estate’s glass conservatory, where Nora was sitting at an easel, painting a canvas for the first time in two years. She looked up as he entered, a soft, genuine smile gracing her lips—a smile that sent a strange, unfamiliar warmth blooming through Dominic's chest.
"We have a party to attend tomorrow night, Nora," Dominic said softly, leaning against the doorframe. "It’s time to dress you in silk and break your ex-boyfriend forever."
