Chapter 7 - THE MECHANIC'S PRICE
The mechanic didn’t look like a professional killer. He looked tired, his face lined with deep grease stains that wouldn’t wash out, his eyes jittery under the flickering fluorescent light.
He aimed the gun directly at Dominic’s chest.
“Step away from the board, Mr. Caruso,” the man rasped.
Dominic didn’t move. He stood tall, holding his brother’s ledger.
“You’re the man who cut Vincent’s brake lines,” Dominic said. It wasn’t a question.
The man’s hand shook slightly. “Meredith called me ten minutes ago. She said you found the key. She said if I came down here and destroyed the room, she’d wire me a million dollars tonight.”
“And you believe her?” Dominic asked, his voice calm, analytical.
“I believe she’s desperate.”
“She is,” Dominic agreed. “But she’s also broke. I froze her access to all Caruso accounts from the car on the way here. She has nothing to give you.”
The mechanic hesitated, his eyes darting to the ledger in Dominic’s hands.
“I have a son,” the mechanic said defensively. “I did what I had to do.”
“You murdered a twenty-four-year-old boy who was trying to protect his infant daughter.” Walter stepped forward, ignoring the gun. “You took a father away from a little girl.”
“Shut up, old man!” the mechanic snapped, leveling the barrel at Walter.
I didn’t think. I just reacted.
I grabbed a heavy iron wrench off the desk and threw it as hard as I could.
It struck the mechanic squarely in the shoulder.
He cried out, stumbling backward. The gun fired into the concrete floor, the gunshot deafening in the small unit.
Before he could recover, Dominic closed the distance.
With ruthless, terrifying precision, Dominic struck the man across the jaw, disarming him in a single, fluid motion. The mechanic collapsed, groaning on the floor.
Dominic kicked the gun away and pulled a zip-tie from his jacket—a habit of a man who owned freight companies—and secured the mechanic’s wrists.
He stood up, adjusting his cuffs.
He looked at me.
“Nice throw, Bridget.”
My hands were shaking violently. “I just… I couldn’t let him shoot Walter.”
Walter gave me a weary, deeply grateful smile.
Dominic picked up his phone and dialed.
“Marcus. Bring the police to the South Boston warehouse. Unit 42. Tell the detective I have the man who murdered my brother. And the proof to arrest Meredith Vale.”
He hung up.
The silence returned, heavier this time.
Dominic looked at the corkboard, at the years of investigation his brother had died for.
He reached out and carefully removed the photograph of Vincent holding a newborn Lily.
He tucked it into his inner pocket, right over his heart.
“Let’s go home,” Dominic said softly.
By the time we returned to the estate, the sun was beginning to rise, painting the Boston skyline in bruised shades of purple and gray.
The flashing lights of police cruisers were pulling away from the front gates. Meredith had been arrested at her hotel.
The nightmare was finally over.
We walked into the grand foyer. It felt different now. Less like a museum, more like a house that had finally exhaled.
Lily was sitting on the top step of the staircase, wrapped in a blanket.
When she saw Walter, she ran down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her.
Walter dropped to his knees and caught her, burying his face in her shoulder.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Walter cried, rocking her gently. “Grandpa’s here. I’m never leaving you again.”
Dominic watched them. The billionaire who had everything finally realized what he had been missing.
He walked over and knelt beside Walter.
Lily looked at him, her large brown eyes cautious but hopeful.
“Are you mad at me, Mr. Caruso?” she asked quietly.
Dominic’s eyes filled with tears. He reached out and gently smoothed her hair.
“No, Lily,” he whispered. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just so incredibly happy to finally meet my niece.”
He stood up and looked at Walter.
“The driver’s quarters are closed, Walter. From now on, you and Lily stay in the east wing. You are family. You will always be family.”
Walter couldn’t speak. He just nodded, weeping openly.
Dominic turned to me.
“Bridget.”
May you like
I wiped my eyes, straightening my posture. “Yes, sir.”
“Your shift is over. Permanently.”
