Chapter 16
The atmosphere in the great hall turned to absolute ice. The rifles of the Bellacorte mercenaries remained aimed at the scarred man, but no one dared to pull a trigger as they witnessed the profound, paralyzing shock on Richard's face.
"You look surprised, Father," Dominic laughed bitterly, a twisted, painful sound distorted by the burn contractures pulling at his cheek. He pushed himself up from the armchair with great effort, leaning heavily on a gold-plated walking cane. His once-imposing posture was battered, yet the regal, unbroken aura of the Bellacorte bloodline still burned fiercely in his eyes.
"Why..." Richard took a staggering step forward, entirely abandoning his tactical guard. His voice choked with a mixture of overwhelming grief and fury. "Why did you do this? Why did you fake your death for four years? Mark told me you died of an overdose in Chicago!"
"Mark is a cowardly, incompetent dog," Dominic hissed through his teeth, pure venom lacing his words. "He never had the spine to look me in the eye and pull a trigger. Four years ago, when I discovered Mark was quietly selling our logistics routes to the Morelli syndicate, I prepared a dossier to bring to you. But Mark struck first. He wired a bomb to my car's ignition."
Dominic closed his eyes tightly, the horrific nightmare of the inferno seemingly flashing behind his eyelids. "I was trapped inside that burning steel coffin. Because Mark owned a few corrupt federal cops, they declared the charred corpse inside the wreck was mine. But the truth is, I crawled out of that hell on my own, leaving behind half my face and a scorched lung."
"Why didn't you come to me?!" Richard roared, the sheer pain tearing at his chest. "I am your father! I would have torn Mark apart limb from limb if I had known the truth!"
"Because you wouldn't have believed me!" Dominic shouted back, his voice echoing violently off the cold stone walls. "You always viewed Mark as the obedient firstborn, the golden heir meant to legitimize the family empire! And me? I was just the rebellious second son, always a liability. If I had returned to you looking like a crippled monster, Mark would have easily convinced you I had gone insane. I had to disappear. I had to cross the ocean, access my mother’s secret trust, and build an army in the shadows so that one day, I could return and crush that bastard!"
Richard stood paralyzed in silence. Every word Dominic spoke was a dagger plunging straight into his heart. He remembered the secret guardianship document his late wife Eleanor had secretly signed. She had seen Mark’s rot long before anyone else, but Richard, blinded by his pride as a boss, had been completely deceived.
"But Sarah... and Noah," Richard lowered his voice, speaking the two names that had changed the entire world. "Do you have any idea what Sarah endured? She lived like a hunted animal in the freezing wilderness for three years because she thought you were dead! Mark beat and locked Noah in a shed, and Claudia threw a barefoot three-year-old child out into the freezing snow! How could you abandon your own wife and son?"
At the mention of Sarah and Noah, Dominic’s gray eye turned bloodshot, and hot tears spilled over his scarred skin. He stumbled backward, his body shaking violently, and dropped his gold cane.
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"Do you think I didn't want to save her?" Dominic collapsed back into the leather chair, covering his ruined face, sobbing with raw, unfiltered agony. "I was in a medically induced coma in an underground clinic in Romania for a year and a half receiving skin grafts! When I finally woke up and established the Iron Collar, I received an intelligence report that Sarah had died in a fire at the old estate. I thought my wife and unborn child had been murdered by Mark... It wasn't until a few days ago my network reported that you had exiled Mark and secured Noah... That is why I sent men to steal your nautical logbooks in Geneva—I needed the safe routes across the Atlantic to bring them home!"
All the misunderstandings, all the violent hatred between father and son evaporated in the tragic light of the truth. Richard dropped his heavy assault rifle. He walked forward, wrapping his massive, powerful arms around his broken, weeping son. In the center of a smoke-filled, blood-stained hall, the ruthless king of the underworld finally broke down and cried.
