Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE BY THE LAKE
Grace had never hated luxury before.
She hated it now.
The DeLuca property in Lake Geneva looked like something from another universe.
Stone mansion.
Private shoreline.
Iron gates.
Cameras tucked beneath every roofline.
Armed guards walking the perimeter.
Grace stood in the foyer wearing borrowed clothes while rain struck the windows.
“This is ridiculous.”
Margaret smiled from her wheelchair.
“You've said that twelve times.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
Dominic entered behind them.
“Search complete. Property is secure.”
Grace turned.
“My mother isn't here.”
“She'll arrive in thirty minutes.”
That stopped her.
“You moved her?”
“The hospital discharged her this morning after speaking with her oncologist.”
“Without asking me?”
“She agreed.”
Grace narrowed her eyes.
“My mother agreed to leave her treatment center and move into a mobster's mansion?”
Dominic looked mildly offended.
“She didn't phrase it that way.”
Margaret laughed.
Grace's mother arrived twenty-seven minutes later.
And somehow she looked happier than she had in months.
Helen Bennett was sixty-one, thin from treatment, with a patterned scarf covering her hair.
She hugged Grace carefully.
“Don't crush the ribs.”
Grace held her anyway.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“Apparently neither should you.”
“Mom.”
Helen looked around the enormous foyer.
“Do you know there are heated floors?”
Grace stared at her.
“You're enjoying this.”
“I have cancer, not blindness. It's a beautiful house.”
Dominic approached.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
Helen looked him up and down.
“So you're Dominic.”
Grace wanted to disappear.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“My daughter says you're bossy.”
Grace covered her face.
Dominic looked at Grace.
“She says that often.”
Helen smiled.
“I like him.”
“You've known him seven seconds.”
“I make fast decisions.”
Margaret appeared beside Helen.
“So do I.”
The two older women exchanged one look.
Grace immediately understood she was in trouble.
Dominic did too.
He stepped away.
“Marco will show everyone their rooms.”
“My mother stays near me,” Grace said.
“Already arranged.”
“And no one enters without knocking.”
“Done.”
“And—”
“Grace.”
“What?”
“You're safe.”
She wished she believed him.
That evening, they ate in a dining room overlooking the lake.
Grace expected fifty-foot tables and servants in white gloves.
Instead, Dominic served pasta himself.
Grace stared.
“You cook?”
Margaret answered.
“No.”
Dominic placed the dish down.
“I can boil water.”
“He once burned soup.”
“It was twelve years ago.”
“It came from a can.”
Helen laughed so hard she started coughing.
Dominic immediately poured water.
Grace watched him.
There were moments when he seemed almost normal.
That bothered her more than the gun.
Normal men were easier to dislike.
After dinner, Grace stepped onto the terrace.
Cold wind moved across the lake.
Dominic joined her.
“You should be resting.”
“You should stop telling me what to do.”
“Neither appears likely.”
Grace looked toward the water.
“Who wants your mother dead?”
“I don't know.”
“That isn't true.”
Dominic leaned against the stone railing.
“My father had a partner named Adrian Voss.”
Grace waited.
“They built something together.”
“A criminal empire?”
Dominic looked at her.
“You have a talent for making conversations uncomfortable.”
“I work in hospitality.”
He continued.
“Voss believed my father betrayed him. Their alliance ended violently.”
“What happened?”
“Voss disappeared.”
“And now?”
“Someone is using his symbol.”
“The wolf.”
“Yes.”
Grace turned.
“Was Adrian Voss dead?”
“We believed so.”
“That doesn't sound convincing.”
“It shouldn't.”
Grace rubbed her arms.
Dominic removed his jacket.
“No.”
“I didn't ask.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to say I'm cold, not helpless.”
He held the jacket anyway.
Grace took it.
It smelled faintly of cedar.
She immediately regretted noticing.
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
They stood silently.
Then Dominic said, “Your mother likes Margaret.”
“My mother likes everyone.”
“Not me.”
“She likes you.”
“She called me intimidating.”
“For Mom, that's practically affection.”
Dominic smiled.
Grace stared before she could stop herself.
He noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
“You look different when you smile.”
His expression closed slightly.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“For your reputation.”
Before he could answer, something flashed across the opposite shoreline.
Dominic's body changed instantly.
He pulled Grace down.
“What are you doing?”
“Light.”
Another flash.
He pushed her behind the stone wall.
Security rushed onto the terrace.
Then a sharp crack echoed over the lake.
The window behind them shattered.
Grace screamed.
Dominic covered her.
“Sniper!”
Marco shouted.
Guards spread across the property.
Dominic grabbed Grace.
“Inside.”
Another bullet hit the railing.
They ran.
Margaret and Helen were already being moved toward the lower level.
Grace's heart stopped.
“Mom!”
“I'm fine!”
Helen shouted.
The mansion suddenly went dark.
Backup lights activated.
Dominic cursed.
“Generator shouldn't have failed.”
Marco spoke into his radio.
“No response from west security.”
Dominic's face hardened.
“Stay here.”
Grace grabbed his arm.
“Where are you going?”
“To find out why.”
“Someone is shooting at you.”
“Actually, mostly at you.”
Grace stared.
He wasn't joking.
The first bullet had struck exactly where Grace had been standing.
“Why me?”
Dominic didn't answer.
He moved down the hallway.
Grace followed.
He stopped.
“No.”
“I’m not staying alone.”
“There are six guards here.”
“One of your guards betrayed us at the hospital.”
That silenced him.
“Fine. Behind me.”
They moved toward the west wing.
The emergency lights painted the corridor red.
At the end of the hall, a security guard lay unconscious.
Marco checked him.
“Alive.”
The door beside him stood open.
Cold air entered.
Dominic looked outside.
“Boat dock.”
They descended the stairs.
Grace hated every step.
The dock lights were gone.
Rain moved across the black water.
One of the boats was missing.
Dominic noticed something on the wooden boards.
A phone.
He picked it up.
The screen immediately lit.
Video.
A room appeared.
Grace's apartment.
Someone had filmed inside it.
Her kitchen.
Her bedroom.
Then the camera moved toward a dresser.
A photograph showed Grace at age nine with her parents.
Her father stood behind her.
Tall.
Dark hair.
Smiling.
Grace hadn't looked at that picture in years.
The video zoomed in.
Dominic froze.
Grace noticed.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
“Dominic.”
His face had lost all color.
“You know him.”
Grace's voice sharpened.
“You know my father.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
Dominic replayed the image.
Marco came closer.
His reaction was even stronger.
“Jesus.”
Grace grabbed the phone.
“What is happening?”
Marco looked at Dominic.
“Tell her.”
Grace's pulse pounded.
“My father died when I was twelve.”
Dominic's eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
“What was his name?”
“Daniel Bennett.”
“Was that his real name?”
Grace stepped back.
“What kind of question is that?”
Dominic slowly reached toward the image.
There was a small mark on her father's wrist.
Grace had forgotten it.
A wolf.
Not identical to the emblem she saw in the garage.
But close.
Too close.
Grace's stomach turned.
“No.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Grace.”
“No.”
“My father was an accountant.”
Marco said quietly, “Maybe after.”
“After what?”
Neither answered.
Grace shouted.
“AFTER WHAT?”
Dominic finally said it.
“Daniel Bennett wasn't always an accountant.”
Rain hammered the dock roof.
Grace could barely hear him over the blood rushing through her head.
“He worked for Adrian Voss.”
Grace stared.
“No.”
“He was one of Voss's closest men.”
“No.”
“My father—”
“May have helped him disappear.”
Grace's knees weakened.
Dominic caught her.
She shoved him away.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“Why would my dad hide that?”
“Because he left that world.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my father spent ten years looking for him.”
Grace stopped breathing.
Dominic's next words felt like a bullet.
“Your father wasn't just an accountant, Grace.”
He looked toward the black lake.
“He may have been the man who stole millions from my family and vanished with Adrian Voss.”
The phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
One sentence.
THE DAUGHTER PAYS THE FATHER'S DEBT.
Grace stared at it.
Then a second message appeared.
MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. BRING GRACE BENNETT TO CHICAGO, OR MARGARET DIES.
Dominic's face turned into something Grace had not seen before.
Not anger.
Something colder.
Promise.
He looked at Grace.
“No one is taking you.”
Grace whispered, “What if that's the only way to save your mother?”
Dominic stepped closer.
“It isn't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because anyone who thinks I'm trading your life for hers…”
May you like
His eyes locked on hers.
“…doesn't know me at all.”
