PART 2.
Harper stumbled forward and collapsed into the leather chair.
Dominic remained standing in front of the locked door.
Five men were staring at her.
An open briefcase filled with hundred-dollar bills rested on the mahogany table.
Beside it lay a bloodstained cloth napkin.
And suddenly, discovering her fiancé with her best friend felt like the least dangerous thing that had happened to her that night.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Harper could hear the faint ticking of an antique clock mounted somewhere behind her.
Each movement of its hands seemed unnaturally loud in the sealed room.
Dominic returned to the head of the table.
He did not sit immediately.
Instead, he picked up Harper's cracked phone from where the scarred man had placed it and turned it over in his hand.
The screen lit.
Twenty-three missed calls.
Most were from Caleb.
Six were from Khloe.
Dominic's eyes lingered on the names.
“Caleb,” he said.
Harper swallowed.
“My fiancé.”
Dominic glanced toward her bare left hand.
Harper followed his gaze.
Only then did she realize her engagement ring was gone.
She remembered ripping it from her finger somewhere between the bar and the hallway.
“Former fiancé,” she corrected.
Something almost resembling amusement touched Dominic's expression.
Almost.
“So that's why you're crying.”
Harper stared at him.
“You lock women inside rooms and interrogate them about their relationships often?”
One of the guards coughed, poorly disguising a laugh.
Dominic slowly turned his head.
The man immediately became silent.
Then Dominic looked back at Harper.
“Most people who accidentally enter this room don't live long enough for conversation.”
The coldness of the statement made her stomach twist.
She looked at the bloodstained napkin again.
“That's supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
Dominic finally sat.
“It's supposed to make you understand why I'm asking questions.”
Harper rubbed her palms against her dress.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“There isn't an everything.”
“There always is.”
His calmness irritated her almost as much as it frightened her.
She had spent three years with a man who lied smoothly.
She had spent fifteen years being told by her mother that she was too emotional.
She had spent her entire adult life apologizing for occupying space.
And somehow, sitting across from a man who apparently had people killed for walking into the wrong room, Harper discovered that she was tired.
Utterly, violently tired.
“My name is Harper Lane.
I'm twenty-eight.
I work at the Bellmore Children's Foundation.
I came here tonight because my best friend insisted we celebrate her promotion.”
Dominic's expression shifted so slightly she might have imagined it.
“Khloe?”
“Yes.”
He looked at Harper's phone again.
“And Caleb?”
“He told me he was working.”
“But he wasn't.”
“No.”
“What was he doing?”
Harper clenched her jaw.
“Her.”
Silence.
One of the men near the wall looked down.
Another suddenly became very interested in adjusting his cuff.
Dominic leaned back.
“I see.”
“No, actually, you don't.”
Harper's voice cracked.
She hated that.
She hated sounding weak.
“He was kissing her.”
She stared at the floor.
“My best friend.
Since college.”
Dominic said nothing.
“She helped me pick my wedding dress.”
Still nothing.
“She knew what flowers I wanted.
She knew where we were getting married.
She was supposed to stand beside me.”
Harper laughed once.
The sound came out broken.
“And apparently she's been sleeping with the groom.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
She wiped it away furiously.
“I saw them together.
I left.
I came down this hallway because I didn't want anyone seeing me cry.”
Her eyes lifted toward Dominic.
“And now I'm apparently going to be murdered by a man with extremely expensive taste in whiskey because your stupid door doesn't have a sign on it.”
Silence.
Then the guard with the eyebrow scar burst out laughing.
A genuine laugh.
He covered it instantly when Dominic glanced at him.
Harper stared.
Dominic's mouth twitched.
“Extremely expensive?”
“I've worked charity auctions.
I recognize the bottle.”
“You have unusual priorities.”
“I've had a bad night.”
“That,” Dominic said quietly, “is becoming obvious.”
The tension in the room loosened by a fraction.
Then Harper's phone vibrated.
Everyone looked at it.
CALEB CALLING.
Dominic watched the name flash across the screen.
Harper looked away.
The call stopped.
Immediately, it rang again.
Dominic lifted the phone.
“Would you like to answer?”
“No.”
“He seems persistent.”
“He can marry voicemail.”
Dominic declined the call.
Harper blinked.
Something about the casual gesture nearly made her laugh.
Then another notification appeared.
A message.
Caleb: WHERE ARE YOU?
Another.
Caleb: We need to talk.
Another.
Khloe: Harper please answer me.
Harper closed her eyes.
Dominic studied her face.
“Give me the key card,” he said.
The scarred man reached into his pocket.
Harper's heart jumped.
Dominic took the card and rose.
“Come.”
She hesitated.
“Where?”
“Somewhere without blood on the furniture.”
Harper's gaze snapped toward the napkin.
“I knew that was blood.”
“You said you didn't see anything.”
“I lied.”
Dominic looked at her.
For the first time, there was unmistakable amusement in his eyes.
“Apparently tonight is full of liars.”
He opened the door.
Harper expected him to escort her toward the main club.
Instead, he led her deeper into the private corridor.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
“This isn't the way out.”
“No.”
“Then where are we going?”
“A private lounge.”
“I don't want a private lounge.
I want to go home.”
Dominic stopped walking.
The four men behind them stopped as well.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “there's a complication.”
Harper's pulse quickened.
“What complication?”
Dominic handed her phone to the scarred man.
“Roman.”
The man unlocked the screen.
Harper frowned.
“How did you get into my phone?”
Roman shrugged.
“You use your birthday as your password.”
“That is incredibly invasive.”
“You're in a Mafia nightclub.”
Harper froze.
Roman seemed to realize what he had said.
His eyes slid toward Dominic.
Dominic sighed.
“Subtle.”
“Sorry, boss.”
Harper slowly turned toward Dominic.
“Mafia?”
Dominic adjusted his cuff.
“That word is somewhat outdated.”
“Oh, forgive me.
Organized crime?”
Roman laughed again.
Dominic ignored him.
Harper backed away.
“You are criminals.”
“Yes.”
“You just admitted that.”
“You already assumed it.”
“That doesn't mean I wanted confirmation.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“There is something on your phone you need to see.”
Roman held the device toward her.
A photograph filled the screen.
Harper stared.
It had arrived from an unknown number less than one minute earlier.
It showed her entering the VIP corridor.
Timestamped tonight.
Beneath the picture was one sentence.
WE KNOW SHE'S WITH YOU.
Harper's blood ran cold.
“What is that?”
Dominic's expression had changed completely.
The restrained amusement was gone.
“That's why you're not leaving.”
Harper looked between the men.
“I don't know who sent that.”
“I believe you.”
“Then let me go.”
“That message arrived less than sixty seconds after you entered my room.”
“So?”
“So no one outside that corridor should have known where you were.”
Harper looked toward the dark hallway.
The club suddenly seemed far away.
“Someone followed me.”
“Yes.”
“Caleb?”
Dominic shook his head.
“Your fiancé is a liar.”
A pause.
“But he's not the man I'm concerned about.”
Harper's throat tightened.
Dominic gestured toward the lounge.
“Inside.”
This time, she obeyed.
The second room was smaller.
No money.
No blood.
Only leather couches, a private bar, and a wall of smoked glass overlooking the dance floor below.
Dominic stood beside the window.
From there, the nightclub looked strangely distant.
Hundreds of people danced beneath flashing lights.
Harper searched the crowd.
Then she saw them.
Caleb.
Khloe.
They stood near the bar.
Caleb was arguing with one of the club's security guards.
Khloe looked terrified.
Harper stepped closer to the glass.
“That bastard.”
Dominic watched her instead of the couple below.
“He doesn't appear heartbroken.”
“He never does.”
Caleb shoved the security guard.
That proved to be a mistake.
Two more guards appeared.
Khloe grabbed Caleb's arm.
He jerked away from her.
Harper's expression hardened.
Dominic noticed.
“Still love him?”
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer.”
She looked at him.
Dominic's eyes remained on the dance floor.
“When someone asks whether you love a person and your first response is uncertainty, what you usually love is the memory.”
Harper gave a bitter smile.
“Is that advice from personal experience?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
“I don't fall in love.”
She rolled her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You rolled your eyes.”
“You said something ridiculous.”
Roman suddenly became fascinated by the ceiling.
Dominic turned toward her.
“Ridiculous?”
“Yes.”
Harper folded her arms.
“Every man who says he doesn't fall in love secretly believes he's some tragic mystery women are supposed to solve.”
Roman coughed violently.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
Harper realized she might have pushed too far.
Then Dominic smiled.
It transformed his face.
Not warmly.
But dangerously.
“You aren't frightened enough.”
“I was frightened.”
“Was?”
“I think betrayal temporarily damaged my survival instincts.”
His smile disappeared.
“Then repair them.”
Before Harper could respond, Roman's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
Dominic turned.
Roman covered the receiver.
“There's been a breach downstairs.”
“What kind?”
“Service entrance.
Two men.
Possibly Rossi.”
Dominic's expression became ice.
Harper looked between them.
“Who are the Rossi?”
No one answered.
A gunshot sounded below.
Even through the insulated walls, Harper heard it.
She flinched.
Dominic grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the window.
Another gunshot.
Then screaming.
The dance floor erupted.
People stampeded toward the exits.
Khloe disappeared into the crowd.
Caleb remained near the bar.
Dominic spoke rapidly to his men.
“Lock the east stairwell.
Nobody comes through this corridor.
Move.”
Three guards vanished.
Roman remained.
Harper stared at Dominic.
“This is because of me?”
“We don't know.”
“You said someone knew I was here.”
“Yes.”
“What do they want?”
Dominic did not answer.
Instead, he opened a concealed panel beside the bar.
Behind it was a pistol.
Harper stared.
“Oh, wonderful.”
Dominic checked the weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
“You're joking.”
“Do I look like I'm joking?”
“No.
That's actually one of your more disturbing qualities.”
The lights went out.
Harper gasped.
Emergency lamps flickered red along the ceiling.
Somewhere outside, someone shouted.
Then came footsteps.
Running.
Dominic moved toward the door.
Harper grabbed his sleeve.
He looked down at her hand.
She immediately released him.
“Sorry.”
“Stay here.”
“You said stay behind you.”
“I changed my mind.”
“I preferred the first plan.”
The doorknob moved.
Roman drew his gun.
Dominic raised his.
The door opened.
Khloe stumbled inside.
Harper went completely still.
Khloe's blonde hair was tangled.
Her lipstick was smeared.
Blood stained one sleeve.
“Harper!”
She rushed forward.
Harper stepped backward.
“Don't.”
Khloe froze.
“Please.”
“You don't get to say please.”
“Harper, listen to me.”
“You slept with him.”
Khloe glanced at Dominic and Roman.
“This isn't the time.”
Harper laughed bitterly.
“That's convenient.”
Khloe moved closer.
“I can explain.”
“You were kissing my fiancé.”
“It wasn't what you think.”
“Oh, please give me the version where your tongue accidentally fell into his mouth.”
Roman looked away.
Dominic remained expressionless.
Khloe started crying.
“Caleb made me.”
Harper stared.
“What?”
Khloe wiped her face.
“He threatened me.”
“With what?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Then get out.”
“Harper—”
“Get out!”
Dominic stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Both women went silent.
His attention settled on Khloe.
“How did you get past my security?”
Khloe blinked.
“I—I followed someone.”
“Who?”
“One of your men.”
“Which one?”
“I don't know.”
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
Roman's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
Then at Khloe.
“Boss.”
Dominic held out his hand.
Roman gave him the phone.
Dominic read the message.
His face became unreadable.
Harper's stomach sank.
“What?”
Dominic looked toward Khloe.
“Your friend is lying.”
Khloe's face went white.
Harper stared at her.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Dominic turned the phone toward Harper.
A security image showed Khloe entering through the employees-only service entrance nearly forty minutes earlier.
Not following Harper.
Not lost.
Talking to a man.
Harper leaned closer.
The man beside Khloe wore a dark jacket.
His face was partially turned away.
But Harper recognized him.
Her knees weakened.
“Caleb.”
Khloe shook her head frantically.
“No.”
“That is Caleb.”
“Harper, listen—”
“You said he threatened you.”
“He did.”
“You arrived with him!”
“I had to!”
Dominic stepped forward.
“What did he ask you to do?”
Khloe backed into the wall.
“Nothing.”
Dominic's voice lowered.
“Wrong answer.”
Khloe began trembling.
Harper had seen that expression before.
Dominic was no longer the dry, controlled stranger who had listened to her heartbreak.
He was the man everyone in that first room had obeyed without hesitation.
“Please,” Khloe whispered.
“What did Caleb ask you to do?”
Khloe looked at Harper.
Her face crumpled.
“He told me to bring her here.”
Silence.
Harper's breath stopped.
“What?”
Khloe began sobbing.
“He said it would only scare you.
He said nobody would hurt you.”
Harper felt something colder than heartbreak spread through her.
“You brought me here?”
“Caleb knew you were suspicious.”
“I wasn't suspicious.”
“He thought you were.”
“Of what?”
Khloe covered her mouth.
Dominic seized her wrist.
“Of what?”
Khloe cried out.
“Financial records!”
Dominic released her.
Harper stared.
“What financial records?”
Khloe looked at her helplessly.
“Your foundation.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“My work?”
“Caleb has been moving money.”
Harper stopped breathing.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
“I reconcile donor reports.”
“Exactly.”
Understanding arrived slowly.
Terribly.
“You needed my passwords.”
Khloe sobbed.
“Caleb needed access.”
Harper remembered three weeks earlier.
Khloe borrowing her laptop.
Caleb asking strangely detailed questions about charity accounts.
A donor transfer that had briefly vanished before appearing again.
She had assumed it was an accounting glitch.
“How much?”
Khloe whispered something.
Harper couldn't hear.
“How much money?”
“Eleven million.”
Harper staggered backward.
Dominic caught her elbow.
She pulled away instinctively.
“Eleven million dollars?”
Khloe nodded.
“Caleb thought no one would notice until after the wedding.
Then you two were supposed to leave the country.”
“I wasn't leaving the country.”
“You were.”
Harper shook her head.
“No.”
“He bought tickets.”
“To where?”
“Switzerland.”
Harper stared.
Caleb had recently insisted they renew their passports.
He had called it honeymoon planning.
Everything inside her went silent.
Dominic spoke.
“The money wasn't Caleb's target.”
Harper turned toward him.
“What?”
Dominic glanced at Khloe.
“He's laundering it.”
“For who?”
Khloe lowered her eyes.
Dominic's voice became deadly calm.
“The Rossi family.”
Harper looked at him.
The same name his men had mentioned earlier.
She understood now.
The money.
The nightclub.
The message.
The armed men downstairs.
None of this was coincidence.
“I didn't walk into your room accidentally.”
Dominic's eyes met hers.
“No.”
Khloe whispered, “Caleb needed you inside.”
Harper looked at her.
“Why?”
A gunshot exploded outside the lounge.
The door burst open.
Roman fired.
Someone shouted.
Dominic pushed Harper behind the bar as bullets shattered bottles overhead.
Glass rained across them.
Harper covered her head.
Dominic fired twice.
A body fell outside.
Then silence.
Smoke drifted through the doorway.
Roman checked the hallway.
“Clear.”
Dominic stood.
Harper's hands were shaking uncontrollably.
“Why would Caleb want me inside your room?”
No one answered.
She grabbed Dominic's sleeve.
“Why?”
Dominic looked down at her.
“Because once security footage showed you entering my private meeting, the Rossi family could claim you were working for me.”
Harper stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if eleven million dollars disappeared from an account connected to an organization you manage.”
Her face drained.
“They were going to blame me.”
“Yes.”
Khloe began crying harder.
“I'm sorry.”
Harper looked at her.
“You knew.”
Khloe said nothing.
“You knew they were framing me.”
“I thought Caleb would protect you.”
Harper laughed.
It sounded almost hysterical.
“He was the one framing me!”
“He said you wouldn't go to prison.
He said Dominic would fix everything because he'd think you were useful.”
Harper turned.
Dominic's expression had become strangely still.
“Why would he think that?”
Khloe's silence answered before she spoke.
“Because of her father.”
Harper frowned.
“My father?”
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
“What did you say?”
Khloe backed away.
Harper looked between them.
“My father died when I was six.”
Dominic did not move.
“What was his name?”
Harper hesitated.
“Daniel Lane.”
For the first time since Harper had entered the room, Dominic looked genuinely shaken.
Roman muttered a curse.
Harper saw it.
Saw the recognition.
“What?”
Dominic stared at her.
“Daniel Lane wasn't your father's real name.”
Harper laughed nervously.
“What are you talking about?”
“He didn't die in a car accident.”
Her pulse began hammering.
“How do you know how he died?”
Dominic stepped toward her.
“Because I was there.”
Harper stopped breathing.
The nightclub, the gunfire, Caleb, Khloe, the stolen money—
everything disappeared.
“You were there?”
Dominic's expression darkened with something she could not identify.
Memory.
Anger.
Perhaps guilt.
“You were six years old,” he said.
“You lived in a white house outside Baltimore.
Your bedroom had yellow curtains.
There was a wooden swing in the backyard.”
Harper stared.
No one knew about the yellow curtains.
No one.
Her mother had thrown away every photograph from that house.
“How…”
Dominic continued.
“Your father used to call you Birdie.”
Harper's knees nearly gave out.
Her father.
Laughing.
Lifting her onto his shoulders.
Calling her Birdie because she climbed everything in sight.
She had not heard that name in twenty-two years.
“How do you know that?”
Dominic's gaze dropped toward something beneath the collar of her dress.
A silver chain.
Harper instinctively touched it.
The necklace had belonged to her father.
A small black medallion hung from it.
Dominic went pale.
He stepped closer.
“Take that off.”
“What?”
“The necklace.”
“No.”
“Harper.”
“No.”
Dominic reached toward it.
She slapped his hand away.
Everyone froze.
Roman stared at her as though she had just slapped a tiger.
Dominic slowly looked at his hand.
Harper's breath caught.
“I said no.”
To her surprise, he did not become angry.
Instead he said,
“Look at the back.”
“What?”
“The medallion.”
Harper turned it over.
There were three tiny lines engraved into the metal.
She had seen them thousands of times.
She had always assumed they were scratches.
Dominic took a lighter from his pocket.
“Hold it near the flame.”
“Why?”
“Trust me.”
She almost laughed.
“You kidnapped me thirty minutes ago.”
“And kept you alive.”
Not exactly persuasive.
But Harper held the medallion above the lighter.
Heat touched the metal.
Slowly, something appeared.
Letters.
Tiny characters hidden inside the black surface.
Harper stared.
D.V.
Roman whispered, “Impossible.”
Dominic looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“What does it mean?”
Harper asked.
No answer.
“Dominic.”
His gaze met hers.
“That medallion belonged to my father.”
Harper's mouth went dry.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did mine have it?”
Dominic's voice became quieter.
“Because your father killed him.”
Harper stared.
Khloe gasped.
Dominic's expression hardened.
“But that's not the part you should be afraid of.”
Harper could barely speak.
“What part should I be afraid of?”
He looked toward the door.
Footsteps approached.
Many footsteps.
Roman raised his weapon.
Dominic grabbed Harper and pulled her behind him.
The door opened.
Caleb walked inside.
His shirt was stained with blood.
A gun rested in his hand.
Five armed men entered behind him.
Harper stared.
He looked nothing like the gentle architect she had planned to marry.
His posture was different.
His expression was different.
Even his voice sounded different.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Harper felt sick.
Dominic raised his pistol.
Caleb smiled.
“You don't want to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you shoot me, Harper never learns why her mother lied to her for twenty-two years.”
Harper's heart slammed against her ribs.
“My mother?”
Caleb reached inside his jacket.
Dominic's men aimed their weapons.
Slowly, Caleb removed a photograph.
He tossed it onto the floor.
It slid across the polished wood and stopped beside Harper's shoe.
She looked down.
Three people stood in the photograph.
Dominic's father.
A younger Daniel Lane.
And between them—
Harper's mother.
Not frightened.
Not imprisoned.
Smiling.
Around her neck hung the same black medallion Harper now wore.
Harper picked up the photograph with shaking fingers.
On the back, someone had written:
THE THREE FOUNDERS.
Harper looked up.
“No.”
Caleb smiled.
“The man you thought was your father wasn't killed because of Dominic's family.”
Dominic went still.
Caleb looked directly at Harper.
“He was killed by your mother.”
Harper shook her head.
“You're lying.”
“Ask Dominic.”
She turned.
Dominic said nothing.
“Ask him why he recognized your necklace.”
“Dominic?”
Silence.
“Tell me he's lying.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
Harper's voice broke.
“Tell me.”
Before he could answer, every television screen inside the lounge suddenly turned on.
Static appeared.
Then a woman's face.
Older now.
Elegant.
Silver streaking her dark hair.
Harper dropped the photograph.
“Mom?”
Her mother looked directly into the camera.
Directly at Harper.
As though she could see her.
Then she smiled.
“Hello, Birdie.”
Harper stopped breathing.
Her mother had been dead for four years.
At least—
that was what Harper had been told.
The screen flickered.
Her mother leaned closer.
“If you're watching this, Dominic Vale has finally found you.”
Dominic's face changed.
Harper turned toward him.
Her mother continued.
“And if Dominic found you…”
She paused.
“…then he still doesn't know which one of you is supposed to die.”
The screen went black.
Nobody moved.
Then somewhere deep beneath the nightclub, an explosion shook the building.
…If you want to know what happened next, please type “YES” and like for more.
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Source: Stories of Destiny · Thao Thao
