Chapter 7 - THE CHILD DANIEL WAS REALLY AFTER
Dalia had grown up believing her father was dead.
That much was true.
What she did not know was what he had done while alive.
His name was Michael Ashford.
He had been an accountant.
At least, that was what her mother told her.
Quiet office job.
Long hours.
A heart attack at forty-six.
Ordinary.
Forgettable.
Dominic destroyed that story in less than ten minutes.
“Michael Ashford worked for Anthony Fiero,” he said.
Rowan’s expression changed.
Dalia stared.
“No.”
“He maintained private books.”
“No.”
“He helped your father track money moving through the ports,” Dominic told Rowan.
Dalia felt dizzy.
“My father never lived in New York.”
“He lived wherever the paperwork said he lived.”
Rowan looked at Dominic.
“What did Michael know?”
“Everything.”
“Then why wasn’t I told?”
“Because Anthony stopped trusting you before he died.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
Dominic smiled.
“That hurts, doesn’t it?”
Dalia stepped closer.
“Why did Daniel choose me?”
Dominic looked almost pleased.
“Because Michael left something to you.”
“I inherited nothing.”
“Exactly.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“A dormant corporate share.”
The council room went silent.
Rowan understood first.
“A voting share?”
Dominic nodded.
“Class A founder stock.”
Dalia stared.
Fiero Maritime had been privately held for generations.
Certain original shares carried extraordinary voting rights.
Rowan’s father had spent years consolidating them.
One had apparently disappeared.
“My father owned part of Fiero?”
“Not personally,” Dominic said. “Anthony transferred one founder share into a protective trust under Michael’s control.”
“Why?”
“To keep me from gaining majority authority if something happened to him.”
Rowan stared.
Dominic continued.
“Anthony distrusted me. Sensible man.”
“So Michael controlled the deciding share,” Rowan said.
“Until he died.”
Dalia whispered, “Then it came to me.”
“Yes.”
“But I never knew.”
“You weren’t supposed to. The trust activates only under specific conditions.”
“What conditions?”
Dominic looked toward her stomach.
Everyone followed his gaze.
Dalia instinctively covered it.
“The death of Michael’s direct heir,” Dominic said, “or the birth of the next.”
The room changed.
Rowan’s eyes turned lethal.
Dalia finally understood.
“They didn’t need me dead because of the ledger.”
“Not only the ledger.”
“They needed my baby.”
Dominic smiled.
“Now you understand.”
She felt physically sick.
The trust transferred voting authority at the birth of Dalia’s first child.
But before that transfer, if Dalia died without a living descendant, the share reverted to a secondary trustee.
Dominic.
The cistern had not been about revenge.
It had been corporate succession.
Murder disguised by weather.
“What does Daniel get?” Rowan asked.
Dominic’s smile faded.
“His child would inherit eventually.”
Dalia looked at him.
“Daniel got me pregnant on purpose.”
Silence.
She wanted someone to deny it.
No one did.
Her memories rearranged themselves cruelly.
Daniel encouraging her to stop birth control because they were “building a future.”
Daniel tracking her cycle with an intimacy she had mistaken for affection.
Daniel becoming strangely interested when she mentioned her father’s old papers.
Daniel suggesting marriage one week, withdrawing emotionally the next.
She pressed one hand to the table.
Rowan moved immediately.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re white.”
“I said I’m fine.”
But her voice cracked.
He guided her into a chair anyway.
Celeste stared at Dominic.
“You knew Daniel was using her.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was pregnant?”
“Not until recently.”
“And you ordered her killed.”
Dominic said nothing.
Celeste slapped him.
The sound cracked across the room.
No one moved.
Dominic touched his cheek.
“You ungrateful little—”
“No.”
Celeste stepped away.
“You used me too.”
“You would have had everything.”
“I was going to marry my brother.”
“You didn’t know.”
“You knew.”
For the first time, Celeste looked at Rowan not as an arrangement, not as a rival, but as family.
“I’m sorry.”
Rowan’s expression remained guarded.
She deserved that.
“I knew about the sedatives,” she admitted. “I knew Dominic wanted you weakened enough to step away temporarily. He told me the engagement would stabilize the company while you recovered.”
“You believed that?”
“I wanted to.”
That answer was honest.
She looked down.
“I wanted Fiero.”
“Why?”
“Because I grew up watching Daniel inherit everything from Edmund while I was treated like some decorative extra.”
Her eyes filled.
“Dominic told me I belonged to a greater family. He said you had stolen the place that should have been mine.”
Rowan exhaled.
“You can’t steal a place you didn’t know existed.”
“I know that now.”
Sirens approached in the distance.
Dominic heard them.
“You called police?”
Rowan looked almost amused.
“Federal agents.”
His uncle’s face hardened.
“You would hand family business to outsiders?”
“You tried to murder a pregnant woman.”
“For a company!”
“That sentence is why you’re finished.”
Marcus entered again.
“Agents at the gate.”
Dominic moved suddenly.
He seized Dalia.
A knife appeared in his hand.
Everything happened at once.
Rowan stepped forward.
Bobby lunged but stopped when Dominic pressed the blade against Dalia’s throat.
“Back.”
Rowan froze.
Dalia’s heart slammed.
Dominic pulled her against his chest.
“You let me out.”
“No,” Rowan said.
“Then she dies.”
“No.”
The certainty in Rowan’s voice surprised everyone.
Dominic tightened his grip.
“You think I won’t?”
“I think you already failed to kill her once.”
Rowan’s eyes moved to Dalia.
She understood something in them.
Trust me.
Not rescue.
Trust.
Dominic backed toward the side entrance.
“Open it.”
Rowan didn’t move.
Dalia felt the blade tremble.
Dominic was scared.
Scared men made mistakes.
She remembered something Mrs. Hargrove taught staff members on the first day.
Never carry hot trays with your weight on both feet.
Always keep one leg free.
Balance creates options.
Dalia shifted her weight.
Dominic noticed too late.
She slammed her heel down onto his foot and dropped her full body weight.
The knife moved.
Bobby exploded forward.
He hit Dominic’s arm hard enough to send the blade across the floor.
Rowan crossed the distance.
His fist struck Dominic once.
Only once.
Dominic collapsed.
Marcus kicked the knife away.
Dalia stumbled.
Rowan caught her.
“Are you cut?”
“No.”
“Baby?”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
She looked up at him.
“Yes.”
Then federal agents flooded the room.
Dominic was handcuffed on the same carpet where he had controlled the Fiero family for decades.
Celeste sat silently in a chair.
Dr. Miles had begun talking to investigators before anyone even asked.
Mrs. Hargrove held Evan in the hallway and refused to let him go.
Rowan remained beside Dalia.
She could still feel his heartbeat through the hand at her back.
One agent approached.
“Mr. Fiero, there’s one issue.”
Rowan looked at him.
“Daniel Marsh is gone.”
Dalia closed her eyes.
Of course.
“He emptied two accounts,” the agent continued. “Private jet left Westchester twenty minutes ago.”
“Destination?”
“Filed for Montreal.”
Rowan looked toward Dalia.
She knew Daniel.
He had taught her one lesson better than any other.
The destination on paper was rarely the destination that mattered.
“He isn’t going to Canada,” she said.
“Where?”
Dalia thought of the one place Daniel had repeatedly described as too sentimental for business.
A lake cabin.
Northern Maine.
Near the Canadian border.
A property registered under her name.
She looked at Rowan.
May you like
“I know where he’s going.”
And for the first time, Daniel Marsh was running from her.
