Chapter 4 - Uninvited Echoes
The heavy rain began to lash against the reinforced glass of the foyer as Victoria Montgomery stood on the stone porch outside, her designer coat soaked through and her carefully applied makeup streaking down her cheeks. Gone was the arrogant socialite who had sneered at Claraara’s emerald gown just hours earlier; in her place stood a desperate, shivering woman clutching a leather folio to her chest like a shield.
Claraara watched from the second-floor landing as Dominic opened the heavy double doors, his expression an impenetrable mask of cold indifference.
“Turn around, Victoria,” Dominic said flatly, his hand resting on the brass door handle as if ready to slam it shut.
“Dominic, please,” she choked out, her voice cracking with raw hysteria. “My father has already stripped me of my credit cards, my apartment, everything. He says I’m a liability because of your legal team’s filings. He’s cutting me off.”
“That is a family matter, not mine,” Dominic replied, unmoved by her tears.
“It is yours!” Victoria sobbed, taking a desperate step forward across the threshold until Leo’s broad frame blocked her path. She held up the leather folio, shaking it violently. “I have the original unredacted transcripts from the federal raid five years ago. The ones the prosecutor promised to destroy. Your enemies in the Syndicate didn't just abandon you, Dominic—they paid my father to frame you from the inside.”
Up on the landing, Claraara froze. The air seemed to leave her lungs as the true scale of the betrayal expanded far beyond simple jealousy. She descended the grand staircase slowly, her footsteps silent on the thick carpet until she reached Dominic’s side.
Dominic glanced down at her, his jaw clenching as he saw the determination in her eyes. He stepped aside, allowing Claraara to face Victoria directly.
“Open the folio,” Claraara said, her voice calm and steady, carrying the absolute authority of a forensic accountant who had spent years hunting hidden numbers.
Victoria stared at her in disbelief, her lower lip trembling.
“You're just his hired help—some fat accountant he dragged out of a downtown basement—”
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“I am his wife,” Claraara interrupted softly, stepping out from the shadow of Dominic’s shoulder with a quiet dignity that made Victoria recoil. “And if those documents are real, they don't just clear his name—they give us the exact routing numbers for the syndicate traitors who tried to destroy us both. Open the folio, Victoria. Let’s see what else your father hid from the judge.”
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