Chapter 439
Dominic Blackwood's study housed an imposing ten-tier mahogany bookshelf that spanned the entire length of one wall.
Each shelf was meticulously organized with leather-bound volumes.
Lillian Prescott crept into the room like a shadow, swiftly locking the door behind her. Her breath caught as she surveyed the thousands of books before her.
She knew her adoptive father kept sensitive documents in a safe, but its location remained a mystery.
Kicking off her stilettos and rolling up her sleeves, Lillian moved soundlessly across the Persian rug. She searched behind paintings, beneath the antique desk, even inside the decorative fireplace.
Thirty minutes later, sweat dampened her brow with no safe in sight.
Frustrated, she slammed her fist against the bookshelf. A hidden mechanism clicked, rotating the top shelf to reveal a gleaming titanium safe.
Her pulse quickened. Scaling the library ladder, she reached the top and hesitated before the keypad.
Her first attempt used Genevieve Prescott's birthday - a testament to Jonathan's devotion to his wife.
Access denied.
Next, she tried her own birthday.
Another failure.
The blinking red warning light indicated one final attempt before permanent lockdown.
Lillian bit her lip. Should she risk it?
Success meant everything. Failure would alert Jonathan to her trespassing. But walking away now might mean losing her only chance.
Her phone vibrated violently in her pocket, startling her so badly she nearly toppled from the ladder.
"Hello, Mother?" She forced calm into her voice.
"Darling, where are you?" Genevieve's concerned voice came through. "You should have arrived by now."
"Traffic's dreadful, Mother. There's been an accident on Flue Road - police everywhere." Lillian fabricated smoothly. "How's Grandfather?"
"An accident? Take the beltway instead!" Genevieve fretted. "Your grandfather's stable. Drive safely, darling. We'll talk when you arrive."
Ending the call, Lillian made her decision.
Her fingers hovered over the keypad. Instead of Jonathan's birthday, she entered another date - the birthday of Genevieve's biological daughter.
The safe clicked open.
Lillian froze. The revelation burned through her like acid.
With trembling hands, she sifted through documents until her fingers closed around a silver disc at the bottom.
Triumph surged through her.
She replaced it with an identical blank CD before restoring everything precisely.
Back in her suite, she inserted the disc into her laptop.
The high-definition video showed an impossibly young Dominic Blackwood - barely eighteen - sliding a briefcase across a table to Samuel Whitmore.
When opened, the case revealed tea leaves concealing stacks of hundred-dollar bills - at least two million.
Though youthful, Dominic carried himself with the poise of a seasoned executive. His articulate negotiation with the much older committee secretary revealed a frighteningly precocious businessman.
Lillian traced Dominic's face on the screen possessively.
This magnificent man would be hers. She might have missed his past, but she'd claim his future.
After making multiple backups, she smiled darkly at Jonathan's CD.
"With this, Evelyn Sinclair, let's see how long you last with Dominic."
Meanwhile, Evelyn tossed restlessly in bed.
An inexplicable unease had plagued her since leaving work. Even Dominic's embrace couldn't soothe her.
Exhausted from overwork, he'd fallen asleep immediately.
Dawn approached before Evelyn finally drifted off.
Saturday meant no work, but Dominic rose early, pressing a kiss to her cheek before hurrying downstairs.
The Vivi Group partnership had quadrupled his workload, stealing their leisurely family breakfasts...