Chapter 4 - The emerald venom
The morning sun rose over the Carvelli estate, casting bright, cinematic rays of light across the vast manicured lawns. On the surface, the mansion projected absolute peace and impenetrable luxury. Inside, a silent war had begun.
Clara was not wearing her maid uniform. Dominic had forbidden it. Instead, he had his private staff deliver a selection of elegant, understated dresses to a secure guest suite in the east wing. Clara stood by the window wearing a beautifully tailored navy blue day dress, her dark hair falling softly over her shoulders. She looked less like a servant and entirely like the heiress she was slowly realizing she might be.
Downstairs, Dominic sat in the grand dining room, sipping black coffee. His charcoal tuxedo had been replaced by a sharp, tailored black suit and a crisp white shirt, the top buttons undone, projecting a rugged, effortless power.
Celeste walked into the room, her composure completely restored. She wore a stunning white tailored suit, her diamond earrings catching the morning light. She poured herself a cup of tea, acting as though she had not been slapped to the floor the night before.
“You’re making a mistake, Dominic,” Celeste said smoothly, sitting across from him. “Taking a maid out of the kitchen and putting her in the guest wing? The staff is gossiping. You look weak.”
Dominic did not look up from his tablet. “The only one looking weak is the woman who threw a tantrum over a chair.”
Celeste’s jaw tightened, a flash of pure hatred crossing her fair skin. “I know what you found in the walls, Dominic. You think it means something. A dusty room and an old painting. But the Carvelli name is what holds the syndicate together. You bring that girl into the light, you tell the elders that this empire was built on stolen Bennett land, and they will tear you apart. The other families will smell blood.”
Dominic slowly locked his tablet and looked at her. His eyes were cold, terrifyingly calm. “How did you know about the room, Celeste?”
Celeste took a delicate sip of her tea. “Your brother was a curious man. He liked to dig into your father’s old files. He found out that the foundation of our wealth was a lie. He wanted to tell the council. He wanted to give it all back to that girl’s family to clear his conscience.”
“And then his brakes mysteriously failed on the coast highway,” Dominic said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, lethal whisper.
Celeste smiled, a chilling, beautiful, and utterly ruthless smile. “Tragedies happen, Dominic. I protected this family. I protected our wealth. You should be thanking me.”
She stood up, walking toward the grand fireplace where a small fire crackled. From her designer handbag, she pulled out a thick, folded, yellowed document with a heavy wax seal.
“This is the original transfer deed,” Celeste said softly. “The proof that your father forged the signatures to steal the Bennett estate. Your brother hid it, but I found it.”
Before Dominic could move, Celeste tossed the heavy parchment directly into the crackling flames.
Dominic vaulted across the heavy mahogany table with terrifying speed. He shoved Celeste out of the way, plunging his bare, large hand directly into the fire. He grabbed the burning document, ignoring the intense heat, and pulled it out, crushing the flames with his fist.
The edges were charred, and half the page was turned to ash, but the center of the document, bearing the forged signatures and the Bennett family crest, remained intact.
Dominic stood up, his hand slightly red but his face completely devoid of pain. He looked at Celeste, who was backed against the wall, her arrogance suddenly replaced by raw fear.
“You just confessed to murdering my brother,” Dominic said, his voice echoing like thunder in the bright room. “And you tried to burn the evidence. Pack your bags, Celeste.”
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“You can't throw me out!” she screamed, her sophisticated mask shattering. “The syndicate elders arrive tonight for the annual gala! If I am not by your side, they will ask questions!”
Dominic looked at the charred paper in his hand. “Let them ask. Because tonight, they are going to meet the real owner of this house.”
