The Mafia Boss Secretly Returned Before Dawn to Test His Fiancée, Then Heard Her Threaten His Widowed Sister and Steal From His Dead Mother’s Trust…

The heavy click of the library lock drew Brooke’s eyes sharply to the door.

"Emma?" Brooke called out, annoyed. "Who locked that door?"

No answer came. Only the low hum of the estate’s ventilation and the pelting rain against the glass answered.

"Just the wind pulling the draft from the conservatory," Vance muttered, dabbing his collar with a silk handkerchief. "Sign the document, Natalie. Please. We are running out of time."

Natalie looked at the signature line. Natalie Mercer-Vane, Relinquishment of Title and Beneficial Interest. Every instinct in her screamed to tear the paper to shreds, but Brooke’s cold threat regarding Noah hung over her head like an executioner's blade. She pressed the pen to the paper.

Suddenly, the door from the inner study clicked open.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadows of the corridor. He wore no jacket, only a crisp charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, revealing the black ink of old syndicate marks etched into his skin.

Dominic Mercer stopped at the edge of the dining carpet.

Vance’s jaw dropped. The pen slipped from his fingers and rolled across the mahogany surface. "M-Mr. Mercer..."

Brooke jumped to her feet so fast her chair screeched against the parquet floor. "Dominic! What... how are you here? You called from London five minutes ago!"

Dominic looked at her. His face was an emotionless mask, carved from the same hard granite as the cliffs outside.

"I routed my satellite phone through our London exchange, Brooke," Dominic said calmly. He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of water. "I find that people are remarkably honest when they believe you are three thousand miles away."

Brooke’s mind raced. Her eyes darted toward the leather folder on the table, then to Vance, whose face had turned the color of damp parchment. She took a step toward Dominic, extending her arms.

"Darling, you surprised us! I was just... Arthur and I were helping Natalie organize her estate taxes before our big day. We wanted to take the burden off her shoulders."

"Is that what you call threatening to take her child?" Dominic asked softly.

The room went dead silent.

Brooke’s breath caught in her throat. "What? Who told you that? Emma? Natalie? Dominic, you know Natalie has been emotionally unstable since David died! She misunderstands everything—"

"I was standing three feet from you in the pantry at five o'clock this morning," Dominic said.

Brooke staggered back half a step as if she had been struck.

Dominic walked slowly to the head of the table. He picked up the leather folder, opened it, and glanced at the forged waiver. With deliberate slowness, he tore the document in half, then into quarters, and let the pieces flutter down onto Brooke’s untouched breakfast plate.

"Arthur," Dominic said without looking at the lawyer.

Vance began to shake uncontrollably. "Dominic, I swear on my life, Julian Harrington came to me with forged authorizations. He said you had approved the collateral transfer for the shipping lanes!"

"You've worked for my family for twenty years, Arthur," Dominic said, his voice dropping an octave. "You know the rule. Disloyalty is an expensive choice."

"Dominic, please!" Vance begged, dropping to his knees.

Silas stepped through the library door, accompanied by two large security operatives in dark suits. Silas didn't say a word; he simply gripped Vance by the collar of his suit and hauled him out through the side corridor. Vance’s muffled cries disappeared down the hallway.

Dominic turned back to Brooke.

She wasn't crying. Her shock had rapidly hardened into venomous calculation. She realized that the sweet fiancée act was no longer viable.

"You think you’ve won something here, Dominic?" Brooke sneered, folding her arms. "You think you can just throw me out and go back to playing lord of the manor?"

"I don't think," Dominic said. "I know."

"My brother already registered the Harrington port lease with the state commerce board using Catherine’s signed power of attorney from last month," Brooke said with a chilling smirk. "If you touch me, or if you break our engagement publicly, those documents go to the federal prosecutor. They will think you laundered sixty million through Harrington Logistics. You’ll be fighting an indictment before the weekend is over."

Dominic looked at her with something resembling pity.

"You really don't know who you were about to marry, do you?" he murmured.