Chapter 3 - The Price of Survival
Recovery was a slow, agonizing process. For two weeks, Blackthorne House became my prison and my fortress.
Dominic moved me into the master suite, surrounding the room with round-the-clock guards. He didn't just treat me like an employee anymore. I was an asset—the woman who had saved the heir to the Mercer empire.
But I knew the truth: I was a liability.
One evening, Dominic came into the room with a file folder. He sat on the edge of the bed, his presence commanding the small space.
“I looked into the Thorne explosion,” he said. “Julian survived. He spent the last eight years in the shadows of the Eastern European markets, building a network of human trafficking and arms dealing. He didn't come to my gala to kill Caleb. He came to kill you.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“Because of the inheritance,” Dominic said, opening the folder to show me a series of bank statements and property records. “When your father died, he left a hidden offshore account—one that Julian Thorne has been hunting for years. He believes you have the encryption key. He believes you’re the only thing standing between him and the throne he thinks he’s owed.”
I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “I don't have an encryption key. I don't have anything.”
“He doesn't know that,” Dominic replied, his eyes dark. “And now that he’s shown his hand, he’s not going to stop. He’s already begun attacking my supply lines, trying to destabilize my control in New York to flush you out.”
I realized then that the gala shooting had been a declaration of war. Dominic Mercer, the most powerful boss on the East Coast, was fighting a war on my behalf.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, looking up at him. “I’m just a maid, Dominic.”
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Dominic reached out, his calloused thumb brushing against my cheek. For the first time, the cold mask slipped.
“You aren't a maid, Mara. You’re the woman who saved my son. In this life, I don't leave debts unpaid. And I certainly don't let anyone touch what belongs to me.”
