Chapter 9 - Salvatore’s Mistake
Salvatore Fiero entered the safe room like a man attending a funeral he had already paid for.
He wore a dark suit, polished shoes, and the wounded expression of an elder who expected respect to cover rot. Bianca came behind him, her black dress severe, her pearls glowing like small white teeth.
Mrs. Hargrove stood in the hallway beyond them.
Bobby positioned himself beside Dalia’s bed.
Salvatore looked at the dog first.
Then Dalia.
“My dear girl,” he said. “What a terrible ordeal.”
Dalia’s fingers tightened beneath the blanket.
Rowan stood beside the wall, silent.
Salvatore turned to him. “I warned you years ago that the old cistern should be sealed. Had I known the girl wandered outside—”
“She was bound,” Rowan said.
Salvatore paused.
Bianca spoke smoothly. “Panic confuses memory. She is pregnant, injured, traumatized.”
Dalia looked at her. “And inconveniently alive.”
Bianca’s eyes sharpened.
Salvatore sighed. “No one is blaming you, Miss Ashford.”
“You sent Enzo.”
“Enzo has not been found.”
“He stood above me while the water rose.”
“Did he?” Bianca asked. “In a storm? At night? From eight feet below?”
Dalia smiled faintly.
It surprised everyone, including Rowan.
“You are going to say I imagined him.”
“I am going to say grief and fear make unreliable witnesses.”
“I was not alone.”
Salvatore looked at Rowan. “The dog cannot testify.”
“No,” Dalia said. “But Daniel Marsh can.”
The room changed.
It was small. A flicker. A tightening around Salvatore’s mouth. Bianca’s hand freezing near her pearls.
But Rowan saw it.
Dalia saw him see it.
Salvatore recovered quickly. “I do not know what that means.”
“Yes, you do.”
Bianca stepped forward. “This is absurd. Rowan, you are letting a servant manipulate you because she carries another man’s bastard.”
Bobby snarled.
The sound shook the room.
Bianca went pale.
Rowan’s voice was dangerously soft. “Choose your next word carefully.”
Bianca looked at him and, for the first time, seemed to understand that family did not make her untouchable.
Dalia reached beneath the blanket and removed a folded paper.
Rowan glanced at her. He had not given her that.
Mrs. Hargrove had.
It was a copy of the note from Isla.
Daniel misses what you stole.
Dalia held it out.
“Daniel wants the drive. Isla knew I had it. Enzo knew I was pregnant. Your plan was to let the storm make me disappear before Rowan could connect all three.”
Salvatore smiled sadly.
“Even if that were true, what do you think happens next? Police? Courts? Headlines? You think Rowan wants his company dragged through scandal because one frightened woman has a dramatic imagination?”
Dalia’s throat tightened.
That was the real threat.
Not death.
Exposure.
The machine powerful men used to turn victims into problems.
Rowan stepped forward.
“My company will survive truth. It will not survive cowards steering it from the dark.”
Salvatore’s mask slipped.
“You arrogant boy.”
There it was.
The room inhaled.
Salvatore pointed at Rowan. “Your father built this family with blood and compromise. You inherited the throne and decided to play legitimate king. You think regulators love you? Politicians? Banks? They tolerate you because men like me kept the old doors open.”
“My father died trying to close those doors.”
“Your father died because he forgot what family requires.”
Silence.
Rowan’s face went still.
Dalia felt the words land in him like a blade.
Bianca whispered, “Salvatore.”
But it was too late.
Rowan moved closer.
“What did you say?”
Salvatore’s anger had carried him too far. He knew it. Dalia saw the realization pass over his face.
Rowan repeated, “What did family require from my father?”
No one spoke.
Then Mrs. Hargrove appeared in the doorway.
Her voice was thin but steady.
“Poison.”
Every eye turned to her.
The old housekeeper stepped into the room.
“Your father knew, Mr. Rowan. Not all of it. Enough. He asked me to switch his tea service the week before he died.”
Bianca’s face drained of color.
Rowan did not move.
Mrs. Hargrove continued, “I was too late.”
Salvatore exploded. “You lying old—”
Bobby lunged.
Rowan stopped the dog with one word.
“Down.”
Bobby froze, teeth bared inches from Salvatore’s hand.
Rowan looked at his uncle.
“You should have let the storm take her,” he said quietly.
Salvatore swallowed.
Rowan reached for the intercom.
“Lock down the estate.”
Bianca backed toward the door.
May you like
Rowan’s eyes found hers.
“And do not let my aunt leave.”
