Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Grace
The plan was simple—feed Knox false information, make him believe he was ahead while we led him exactly where we wanted.
The bug we’d found had been modified, rerouted so that instead of giving us away, it was now feeding him misinformation.
A carefully crafted conversation designed to sound just real enough.
Theo had helped set up the software, looping the fake dialogue between Dominic and one of his supposed business partners about an upcoming trip overseas.
If Knox was listening, he’d take the bait.
I sat across from Dominic in the dimly lit penthouse living room, my laptop open on the coffee table between us.
The speakers played the recorded conversation softly, filling the space with a low murmur of voices, while the real Dominic sat back in the chair, a whiskey glass in his hand, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.
He looked composed, as always, but I had been around him long enough to notice the small signs—the way his fingers tapped idly against the side of the glass, the way his gaze flickered toward the screen every now and then, the tension in his posture that hadn’t fully eased since the first time he realized Knox had been watching him.
"Do you really think he’s listening right now?" His voice was smooth, casual, but there was an underlying sharpness to it.
I didn’t take my eyes off the screen. "If he’s smart, he is."
Dominic hummed, tilting his glass slightly, watching the way the light caught the liquid inside. "And if he’s smarter than we think?"
"Then he already knows we’re playing him."
Silence stretched between us. The looped conversation continued in the background, but suddenly, the waiting felt heavier.
More loaded. I glanced at him, watching the way his gaze had settled somewhere over my shoulder, lost in thought.
It wasn’t like him. Dominic Beethoven was always present, always aware. But now, he looked... distant.
"Why do you still run the company?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His fingers stilled around the glass. He didn’t answer right away, just took another slow sip of whiskey. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
"Because if I don’t," he exhaled, his gaze dropping to the amber liquid in his hand, "I lose them all over again."
Something inside me tightened.
I had assumed it was about power, about maintaining control, about keeping his hands in as many industries as possible. But it wasn’t, was it? It had never been about that.
"You keep it because it’s the last thing you have of them," I murmured.
He lifted his gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He didn’t confirm it, but he didn’t deny it either. He didn’t have to.
I swallowed, my focus shifting back to the screen, watching the program run its course. Knox was still listening, still buying into the story we were feeding him. But suddenly, this didn’t feel like just another strategy session. It felt like something real.
And that realization unsettled me more than any threat ever could.
Hours later, after the others had gone to bed and the penthouse was quiet, I found Dominic alone in the lounge, another drink in his hand. He sat near the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city stretching out below him, a silent expanse of lights against the dark skyline.
I hesitated before crossing the room, sinking into the chair across from him. He didn’t acknowledge me right away, just tilted his glass slightly, watching the liquid inside.
"Drinking alone now?" I asked.
His lips twitched slightly, but it wasn’t quite a smile. "I thought you didn’t sleep."
I shrugged. "Not when there’s a target on your back."
Dominic hummed, taking another sip of whiskey before setting the glass down on the table between us. "You always this dedicated?"
I didn’t answer right away. Because the truth was, this wasn’t just about the job anymore, was it?
Dominic studied me for a moment before leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was quieter when he spoke next. "Why do you care so much?"
The question shouldn’t have shaken me. It shouldn’t have made my breath catch, shouldn’t have made my pulse stutter.
I should have said, because I was hired to.
I should have said, because it’s my job.
But I didn’t.
I just stared at him, at the man who carried too much weight on his shoulders, who had spent years hiding behind a carefully constructed image, who still didn’t understand that he didn’t have to do this alone.
And that scared the hell out of me.
The words were there, right at the tip of my tongue. But before I could say them, my phone buzzed.
I stiffened.
Dominic noticed immediately. His gaze sharpened, watching as I pulled my phone from my pocket.
A message.
No name. No number.
Just a single line.
"You can protect him all you want, but you can't stop what’s coming."
The air in the room shifted.
Dominic reached for the phone before I could stop him, his eyes scanning the message, his jaw tightening. The smirk he had worn earlier was gone.
He exhaled slowly, handing the phone back. His voice was calm when he spoke, but there was something in it, something sharp beneath the surface.
"He’s getting impatient."
I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around the phone. "Good. That means he’ll slip up."
Dominic’s gaze lingered on me. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything.
Then, finally, something in him seemed to ease, just slightly. His shoulders relaxed, his expression softened—only a fraction, but enough for me to notice.