Chapter 3: Lockdown
1070 Words
The whole atrium went silent. Up on the second floor, Cynthia flattened herself against a marble pillar. Her nails were digging into the stone so hard it hurt. She couldn’t breathe.
Below, Dominic’s two executives looked like they’d seen a ghost. The nanny stopped mid-step and let go of Leo’s shoulder. In the middle of the hall stood two little boys. On the left, Leo. Perfect little suit, perfect posture, clutching that glowing star. On the right, Toby. T-shirt too big, cookie crumbs on his face, looking way too proud of the chaos he’d caused. Same dark hair. Same cowlick. Same jaw. Same face.
Dominic wasn’t moving. His chest rose and fell fast under his charcoal jacket. Those eyes he’d only just gotten back were flicking from Leo to Toby and back again. The cold, calculating mask he always wore cracked right down the middle.
"Sir," one of the executives stammered. "Is this... a hologram? A security breach?"
Dominic didn’t answer. He took one slow step toward Toby. His shadow swallowed the kid whole. Toby didn’t flinch. He took another bite of his cookie and looked up with those same gray eyes. "Who are you?" Dominic’s voice was low and dangerous. It vibrated through the floor. "How did you get in my house?"
"I’m Toby," the boy said, like they were talking about the weather. "And the vent in the kitchen was loose. You’ve got a huge hole in your West Wing security, by the way. You should fix that."
Dominic’s jaw ticked. A five-year-old was auditing his million-dollar security system. But that wasn’t what made his heart slam against his ribs. It was the face.
"Harrison!" Dominic barked. The sound bounced off the walls.
The butler appeared instantly. One look at the two boys and all the color drained from his face. "Oh my God..."
"Lock the estate down," Dominic said. His voice shook, but not with fear. With rage. "No one in. No one out. And get me the new tutor. Now."
On the balcony, Cynthia knew she had maybe thirty seconds before guards flooded the halls. She couldn’t let him question Toby alone. She ran. Down the back stairs, straightening her glasses, forcing air into her lungs. She burst into the hallway right as Harrison reached for his radio.
"Mr. Lancaster!" she gasped, breathless on purpose. She pushed past the executives and threw herself in front of Toby. "Thank God. I’m so sorry. So sorry."
Dominic’s eyes cut to her. Ice cold. "Miss Bennett. Want to explain why there’s a copy of my son eating cookies in my hallway?"
"He’s not a copy. He’s my son," Cynthia said. The lie came out fast because her brain was panicking. "I’m a single mom. When I took this live-in job I had no childcare. I know your policy. I was desperate. I hid him in my quarters. I was going to tell you once I proved myself with Leo."
Dominic stepped closer. She could smell cedarwood and rain again. It knocked the air out of her. "You think I’m stupid?" he said quietly. "Look at him. Look at Leo. That’s not a coincidence."
"It’s a medical thing," Cynthia said, voice pitching higher. "Toby’s father was an anonymous donor. A tech executive. Same genetic pool as your family. Smart, dark hair, gray eyes. It happens. It’s just a coincidence." It was a terrible lie. But it was all she had.
Dominic leaned in until his face was inches from hers. "A coincidence? Same face. Same way of talking. And he just diagnosed my security system. You’re lying."
"I’m not!" The mother in her snapped before the scared woman could stop it. She grabbed Toby’s hand. "If I broke the contract, we’ll go. Right now. Come on, Toby." She turned. Two security guards were already blocking the door.
"You’re not going anywhere," Dominic said softly. Too softly. He glanced over at Leo. Leo hadn’t moved, but his eyes were locked on Toby. For the first time in six years, something shifted in his face. His mouth opened a little. His hand trembled around the star. Then he took a step toward them.
"Leo, stay back," Dominic said, but he never looked away from Cynthia. "Harrison. Call the clinic. Get a DNA team here in twenty minutes. If this is a scam, Miss Bennett, you will go to prison."
The room spun.
A DNA test. If they drew Toby’s blood, it was over. He’d know. He’d know Toby was his. He’d know it was her from the hotel. He’d take both her boys. "No," Cynthia whispered. "You can’t do that. You don’t have the right."
"In this city, I buy the right," Dominic said flatly. "Take them to the West Wing parlor. Guard it."
Thirty minutes later Cynthia was pacing. Toby was on the leather sofa, picking at a desk drawer with a paperclip like he was on vacation.
The doors opened.
She expected doctors. Instead it was Dominic. No jacket. Sleeves rolled up. He looked less like a CEO and more like a man about to break something. He shut the door and locked it.
"The medical team is in the library," he said, calm in a way that scared her more than yelling. He went to the window and looked out. "You’ve got three minutes to tell me the truth before they take his blood. And Chloe... if that test says what I think it says, I will bury you legally."
Cynthia looked at Toby. Then at Dominic’s back. There was nowhere to run. He turned. His eyes pinned her through her big glasses. "Two minutes."
"Why?" The words came out in her real voice. Soft. Raspy. The voice she’d been hiding. "You already have an heir. You have everything. Why can’t you just let us go?"
Dominic froze.
The cold drained out of his face. His eyes went wide. He stared at her mouth like he’d been hit. That rasp. That exact soft, breathless rasp. It wasn’t a northern accent. It was the woman from the dark hotel room six years ago.
He moved before she could react. Two steps and his hand was around her wrist. Heat shot up her arm. He didn’t look at her clothes or her bun. He looked straight into her hazel eyes.
"That voice," he breathed. His chest was rising fast now. He reached up and ripped her glasses off. "It was you."
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