Chapter 4 - the messenger at the gate
Within seconds, Dominic, Frank, and three armed guards rushed down the front stone steps toward the fallen sedan. Bruno sprinted ahead, circling the collapsed woman with alert, protective intensity.
Dominic crouched down beside the woman, gently turning her over onto the dry gravel. Her fair, rosy skin was pale with exhaustion, and her simple blue housekeeping dress was torn at the shoulder. She was in her early thirties, with soft chestnut hair tied into a disheveled bun.
"Is she hit?" Frank asked, his gun drawn as his eyes scanned the surrounding treeline.
"No," Dominic observed, examining her pulse. "Extreme fatigue and dehydration. She drove through the gates on a flat tire."
The woman’s eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at Dominic’s broad, battle-hardened face, her brown eyes filling with immediate recognition and desperate relief.
"Mr... Mr. Bellucci?" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.
"I am Dominic Bellucci," he answered smoothly, his deep voice steady and commanding. "Who sent you to my home?"
The woman lifted her trembling hand, pressing the sealed manila envelope into Dominic’s broad palm.
"My name is Sarah... I was Nurse Elena's daughter," she whispered, her chest heaving as she fought for air. "My mother died three days ago... but before she passed, she told me to bring this to you before Vanessa Crowe’s men found it."
Dominic took the envelope. It was thick, stamped with a red wax seal bearing the emblem of Saint Jude’s Hospital.
"Why was Vanessa looking for this?" Dominic asked, leaning closer.
Sarah caught her breath, her eyes wide with lingering fear. "Because my mother wasn't just an assistant in that delivery room eight years ago, Mr. Bellucci. She was the person who hid the second birth certificate."
Dominic’s broad shoulders went rigid. "Second birth certificate?"
"Sophia didn't give birth to one child that night," Sarah revealed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "She gave birth to twins."
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Dominic froze, the world around him seemingly coming to a dead standstill as the wind died down across the estate lawn.
From the second-floor balcony above, eight-year-old Charlie stood between the stone pillars, holding his plush dog, watching his father read the document in the drive.
