Chapter 11 - THE GUN IN THE DESK
For two days, I lived in a waking nightmare.
I watched Toby laugh and play video games in the massive living room. I watched Dominic look at him with a father’s adoring eyes. I watched Anthony bounce his grandson on his knee, completely oblivious to the ticking time bomb sitting under my mattress.
How could I destroy Toby's happiness? He finally had a father. He finally had a home.
But every time I looked at Anthony, all I saw was the fire that consumed my family.
On the third night, I couldn't take it anymore. The guilt of keeping the secret was suffocating me. I waited until midnight, when the mansion was entirely silent, and I walked up the grand staircase toward Dominic’s private office.
I didn't knock. I pushed the heavy mahogany doors open.
Dominic was sitting behind his desk, a single desk lamp illuminating a stack of shipping manifests. He looked up, surprised.
"Emily? It's late. Is Toby okay?"
I didn't say a word. I walked straight up to his desk and slammed Maria's diary down onto the polished wood.
Dominic stared at it. "What is this?"
"Read the bookmarked page," I said, my voice trembling with a rage I had repressed for forty-eight hours.
Dominic frowned. He opened the diary. I watched his eyes scan the page. I watched the realization hit him. I watched the color drain from his face until he looked physically ill.
He read it twice. Then he closed the book, his hand shaking.
"My mother," Dominic whispered. "My father..."
"They burned my dad alive," I said, the tears finally spilling over. "Your empire. This house. Your cars. It was all bought with the money you made off my father's ashes. Elena didn't know. My mother didn't know. But I know."
Dominic stood up. He didn't offer excuses. He didn't try to defend them. He knew his family's history was soaked in blood, but this—this was a betrayal so deep it defied forgiveness.
He walked around the desk. He didn't come toward me. Instead, he stopped at a small safe embedded in the wall. He opened it and pulled out a heavy, silver revolver.
He walked back and placed the gun on the desk, right next to the diary.
"I am the head of this family," Dominic said, his voice completely hollow. "The sins of my father belong to me. If you want justice for Arthur Parker, Emily... take it."
I stared at the gun.
"If I go to the police, Toby loses everything," I cried. "He loses his father. He loses the only family he's ever wanted."
"Then don't go to the police," Dominic said quietly. He pushed the gun an inch closer to me. "I won't stop you. I won't even flinch."
My hand hovered over the cold steel of the grip. I thought about the years of poverty. The nights my mother cried over unpaid bills. The fact that my father never got to see me grow up.
All I had to do was pick up the gun.
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"If you kill me, Emily," Dominic said, his eyes filled with profound sorrow, "Toby will still have you. You will raise him. I'll make sure the trust fund transfers to you immediately. He'll be safe."
I grabbed the handle of the gun. It was terribly heavy. I raised it, pointing the barrel directly at Dominic's chest.
