When I returned inside, Emily was sitting on the edge of a worn sofa with Hazel and Nora pressed against her sides. She confessed that her husband, Daniel, had died eight months earlier, leaving behind medical bills and debts she couldn’t pay. Dominic’s company had offered to consolidate everything, but the contract contained clauses she hadn’t understood. She had signed because she believed it was the only way to keep her daughters from losing their home.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I asked gently. Emily lowered her eyes and explained that Dominic had threatened to report her as an unfit mother if she resisted. She feared the authorities would separate her from the girls, so she endured the harassment in silence. Hazel climbed into her mother’s lap and whispered, “It’s okay,

Mommy. We can sleep on the floor if you need our beds.” Something inside me broke at those words.
Two years earlier, my own family had disappeared from my life in a single terrible night. Since then, I had convinced myself that caring about anyone only created another opportunity for loss. Yet here were two little girls willing to surrender their beds to protect the woman they loved most. I looked at the gingerbread cookies on the table and realized I couldn’t simply leave them behind and return to my empty penthouse.
I called my attorney, Michael Bennett, and ordered him to examine every document connected to Dominic Cross. Then I instructed my security team to find out whether other families had received similar threats. I made one thing absolutely clear: nobody was to touch Victor or Dominic,

and every piece of evidence had to be collected legally. If these men had built their business on frightening vulnerable families, I wanted their victims to have the chance to speak for themselves.
Before midnight, Michael called back with news that made my blood run cold. Dominic hadn’t merely purchased Emily’s debt; he had specifically requested her file three weeks earlier. Buried among the records was a note mentioning Daniel Sullivan, my younger brother, who had died in the same accident that took my wife two years ago. I read the name twice, unable to understand why Dominic Cross had been investigating my family.
Then Michael spoke the words that changed everything. “Reed, your brother’s accident may not have been an accident at all.” I looked toward the sofa, where Hazel and Nora had finally fallen asleep beside their mother.

Christmas lights flickered through the cracked window, and for the first time in two years, I felt the past reaching for me. Whatever Dominic was hiding, those little girls had unknowingly led me straight to it.

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