After her funeral, Dominic found that the quiet of his home was unbearable. He chose to drown that silence in the roar of jet engines and the grind of corporate takeovers.
Business trips replaced bedtime stories, and legal briefings took the place of weekend brunches. Forward momentum became his primary drug to numb the grief he refused to process.
Back at the estate, his two children lived in a world he barely visited. Young Audrey was only six, while her toddler brother, Toby, relied on the care of Dominic’s second wife, Priscilla.
Priscilla was a woman of sharp elegance and perfect social standing. She knew exactly how to navigate a gala and how to present the image of a reconstructed, happy family to the public.
Dominic had convinced himself that she was the anchor he needed to keep his life from drifting. He told himself that the children were in good hands and that the household was thriving while he built his kingdom.
The shift happened on a humid Tuesday evening when an unexplainable dread settled in his chest. Rain was just beginning to splatter against the glass of his office as he scanned a quarterly report.