Chapter 9 - THE LAST TRAP SAMUEL BELL EVER SET
Dominic refused immediately.
“No.”
Isabella struck the table twice.
Yes.
“No.”
Two taps.
“Yes.”
“Ma, you’re not bait.”
Isabella wrote:
E N D I T.
Marin sat beside her.
“She wants to go.”
“I can read.”
“Then listen.”
Dominic looked at Marin.
She did not flinch.
“You spent years protecting your mother by deciding what dangers she was allowed to face.”
“She nearly died yesterday.”
“And she still gets a choice.”
Dominic hated when Marin was right.
Mostly because she rarely enjoyed being right.
Isabella touched his hand.
Then wrote:
T R U S T M E.
At 11:52 the following morning, Isabella entered the abandoned county courthouse where Dominic’s grandfather had once stood trial.
She wore a microphone beneath her coat.
Police surrounded the building.
Federal agents controlled the streets.
Dominic waited inside a surveillance vehicle.
Marin sat beside him.
“You’re crushing that cup,” she said.
He looked down.
Coffee leaked between his fingers.
He put it aside.
Inside the courthouse, Isabella entered the old courtroom.
Bell stood beside the judge’s bench.
Eleanor Morrow sat nearby.
Alive.
Vivien’s mother had spent fifteen years hidden under another identity.
Bell had convinced her that revealing herself would put Vivien in danger.
Another prison built from fear.
Bell smiled at Isabella.
“You came.”
She lifted her writing board.
Bell laughed.
“Still hiding behind that thing.”
Isabella wrote:
N O.
Then she pressed a button.
Her recorded voice played through the board.
Marin had helped program it that morning.
“I am not hiding anymore.”
Dominic heard it through the surveillance feed.
His eyes filled.
Bell’s smile disappeared.
Isabella continued typing.
“You murdered the truth for eleven years.”
Bell shook his head.
“Truth is expensive.”
“So is silence.”
“You understood that once.”
“I was afraid.”
Bell approached.
“And now?”
Isabella looked directly at him.
“Now my son knows.”
Bell’s face twisted.
“Your son is the reason Anthony died.”
Dominic stiffened.
Marin touched his arm.
Bell continued.
“Anthony wanted to protect Dominic from becoming his father. He thought exposing everything would free him.”
Isabella typed.
“He was right.”
Bell laughed.
“Look at Dominic now. Armed guards. Criminal associates. Blood on his name.”
Isabella answered.
“He is changing.”
“Men like him don’t change.”
In the surveillance van, Dominic stared at the screen.
Marin whispered, “Don’t listen.”
“I’m not.”
Bell stepped closer to Isabella.
“You know what happens if these files become public?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband’s reputation dies.”
“He is dead.”
“Your family’s empire collapses.”
“Then it collapses.”
Bell stared.
For the first time, he seemed genuinely unable to understand her.
Isabella typed again.
“My sons mattered more than an empire.”
Bell’s jaw clenched.
Then Eleanor suddenly stood.
“Samuel.”
Bell turned.
She slapped him.
The sound echoed through the courtroom.
“You stole fifteen years from me.”
Bell grabbed her wrist.
That was the signal.
Agents entered.
Bell pulled a gun.
Dominic was already out of the van.
“Dominic!”
Marin shouted.
He ran inside.
Bell dragged Eleanor toward the judge’s chamber.
Isabella blocked his path with her wheelchair.
“Move!”
She didn’t.
Bell aimed at her.
Dominic entered the courtroom.
“Samuel.”
Bell turned.
Dominic stood with his hands visible.
“Let them go.”
“You always arrive at the wrong moment.”
“No.”
Dominic walked closer.
“I think this is exactly the right one.”
Bell pressed the gun against Eleanor.
“Tell them to back off.”
Dominic glanced at the agents.
They held position.
Bell laughed.
“You think handing over files makes you clean?”
“No.”
Dominic’s answer surprised him.
“I think it makes the truth available.”
“You’ll destroy your father.”
“My father made his choices.”
“Your family.”
“They’ll make theirs.”
“Yourself.”
Dominic looked toward Marin standing in the doorway.
Then at his mother.
Then Eleanor.
“I’m tired of protecting myself with other people’s silence.”
Bell’s expression changed.
He had spent a lifetime collecting secrets because he believed everyone had something they valued more than truth.
Dominic had just taken away his leverage.
Bell knew it.
He shoved Eleanor aside and raised the gun.
The shot came from somewhere behind Dominic.
Bell jerked.
His weapon fell.
Carlo stood near the entrance.
Gun raised.
Bell collapsed.
Alive.
Wounded in the shoulder.
Agents swarmed him.
Dominic did not touch him.
That mattered.
Eleven years earlier, Dominic would have dreamed of killing the man responsible for covering up Anthony’s death.
Today he watched federal agents put Samuel Bell in handcuffs.
Bell looked up.
“You think this makes you different from your father?”
Dominic crouched.
“No.”
He looked at Isabella.
“It gives me the chance to become different.”
Bell was taken away.
Eleanor collapsed into a chair.
Isabella reached for her hand.
Two mothers.
Both robbed by the same man.
Both alive.
Outside, reporters had already gathered.
Dominic knew the next months would be brutal.
Investigations.
Trials.
Headlines.
His father’s crimes.
Anthony’s murder.
Vivien’s prosecution.
His own companies scrutinized.
For once, he welcomed it.
Marin approached.
“It’s over.”
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
She frowned.
He looked toward the courthouse doors.
“The hiding is over.”
That evening, Dominic found Eli throwing a baseball against the estate garage.
“Your form is terrible,” Dominic said.
Eli caught the ball.
“You said you could throw.”
“I said I could learn.”
Eli tossed it.
Dominic missed.
The ball struck a flowerpot.
It shattered.
Marin appeared in the doorway.
She stared at the pieces.
Eli immediately pointed at Dominic.
“He did it.”
“Traitor,” Dominic muttered.
Marin folded her arms.
“Seven companies.”
“Eight now.”
“And defeated by a baseball.”
Dominic picked up the ball.
Eli laughed.
For several minutes, everything felt ordinary.
Then Carlo approached from the house.
His expression was serious.
Dominic’s smile disappeared.
“What?”
Carlo handed him an envelope.
“No return address.”
Inside was a photograph.
Dominic and Marin on the terrace two nights earlier.
Taken from beyond the estate fence.
On the back:
BELL WAS NEVER THE ONLY ONE WATCHING.
Below it was a symbol Dominic had not seen since Anthony died.
A black crown.
His brother had drawn the same symbol beside one name in his journal.
Dominic looked at Carlo.
“Who?”
Carlo’s voice dropped.
“Your father’s old partner.”
Dominic stared at the photograph.
The man everyone believed had died eight years ago.
May you like
Marcus Vale.
And according to Anthony’s notes, Marcus was the person who had ordered Bell to bury the truth in the first place.
