Chương 91: Your Father's Protection
The two men approached Dominic, their steps measured as they reached him. Dominic turned to meet them, his posture as composed as ever.
"We've been looking for you, Mr. Brusward," one of the men said, his tone respectful but firm. Dominic adjusted the collar of his coat with a neutral expression, the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"Don't mind me," he replied coolly. "I was just catching up with an old friend." He gestured for them to proceed, and the group made their way to Mr. Anthony's office.
As they entered, the air grew heavier with the presence of the middle-aged man seated in a wheelchair. His white hair, now thinning with age, framed a weathered face. He held a smoking pipe in one hand, and his eyes twinkled behind his round glasses as he looked up.
"Ah, Mr. Brusward," Mr. Anthony greeted warmly, a smile spreading across his face. "Good to see you. It's been far too long." He gestured to the two men to leave, giving Dominic and himself privacy.
Dominic removed his coat and carefully draped it over the back of a nearby chair before sitting down. He nodded in acknowledgment, his demeanor still as composed as ever.
"Yes, it has," Dominic replied, his voice smooth. "I'm the Viceroy now. No time to handle personal matters anymore. As you know, I've severed ties with my father." He pulled a brown envelope from his coat pocket, setting it on the table between them. A servant entered the room at that moment, carefully placing a steaming cup of tea in front of Dominic.
"Of course, son," Mr. Anthony replied, his voice filled with understanding. "Your work has been remarkable. Duke Daniyel certainly couldn't have achieved what you've done for the country. He was... careless, to say the least. But speaking of duty, shouldn't you be in your office? I don't want to disturb you with these matters."
Dominic's lips curled into a slight smile. "Don't worry," he said, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence. "My wife will handle it."
At that, Mr. Anthony coughed in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "Ah, you mean the young Lady Sarogath? She's never been involved in politics before; she was always more into art, unless, of course, you've taught her."
Dominic chuckled softly, his gaze unwavering. "No, she already knows the ins and outs of business and politics. We have our... differences. But it's nothing serious." His hand slid the brown envelope toward Mr. Anthony as he continued. "Anyway..."
Mr. Anthony raised an eyebrow but took the envelope, carefully removing its contents. As he slipped on his glasses, Dominic spoke again, his tone now businesslike.
"The Seldings are scheming against the Sarogath family's hotel business," Dominic explained, his voice steady. "They've made alliances with the Hawricks and other families, especially now that the Vorenforths no longer exist. They've united to bring down our business because I revoked the honorary committee's traditions. They're not happy about it."
Mr. Anthony adjusted his glasses, his interest piqued. "Hmm. I see," he murmured, scanning the contents of the letter.
Dominic took a sip from his teacup, watching Mr. Anthony carefully. "My wife... she's impulsive, as you know. She was angry with me for revoking the traditions because they were important to her family. But I did it without her consent, and she nearly risked her life to gather this evidence for me."
He paused, his expression hardening slightly as he thought about the lengths Evangeline had gone to. "I believe she understands why I did it now," he added quietly. "She sees the bigger picture."
Mr. Anthony set the letter down, raising an eyebrow at Dominic's words. "Quite the strategic couple, then," he said with a small chuckle. "It seems the Seldings may have underestimated your combined resolve."
Dominic simply nodded, his eyes cold and calculating. "It's a dangerous game," he said. "But one I'm prepared to play."
Dominic stood up, his sharp eyes never leaving Mr. Anthony as the older man continued to read through the letter. Dominic's posture was straight, his hands clasped behind his back, and there was a heavy air of deliberation about him.
"So... I want to do some digging on the six families," Dominic said, his voice smooth yet carrying an edge of finality.
Anthony looked up, his hand adjusting his glasses as he processed the statement. "The six families, including the Hawrick family, which makes it seven. They knew that the Seldings had a large crisis with the Sarogath family, and because of your position as the Viceroy, they're using the Seldings as a weapon against you," he said, leaning back in his chair and puffing on his pipe.
Dominic sighed deeply, his gaze hardening. "Exactly," he said, voice flat, as if the weight of the situation had become routine. He glanced out of the window, the dimming light of the day casting shadows across his face. "I'm going to deal with the Hawrick family tonight. The Seldings will be planning an assassination attempt on Evangeline. As long as the Seldings' powerful influence is behind the seven families, they aren't afraid of Prince George's wrath. The Vorenforth arrest and assassination didn't move them."
Anthony chuckled darkly. "The Seldings are way more dangerous than you think. I'm sure they've done much worse than the Bruswards, Young Master."
Dominic's jaw clenched at the mention of his family, but he remained silent, eyes cold. He refused to react, but the anger simmered beneath his composed exterior. His words came out low and controlled, tinged with disdain. "The Bruswards were known to be dangerous, yes. But the Seldings wouldn't care about anyone's status when it comes to dealing with someone they want out of the picture. Your wife offended them, so they won't let it slide."
Dominic scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "They're really this bold? I'll get rid of that powerhouse soon," he said coldly, his tone like ice.
Mr. Anthony's chuckle deepened, as if he had just struck a nerve he wasn't sure he could fully comprehend. "Ah, Mr. Brusward… You're really taking after your father."
The words hung in the air like a curse, and in an instant, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Dominic's fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes locked onto Anthony's, his gaze cold and unfeeling. His jaw tightened as the mention of his father stung with sharp precision, but he managed to hold his anger in check. The mask of indifference returned quickly.
"Don't mention that old bastard," Dominic said through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture that could have been interpreted as respect, but his eyes told a different story. "I'll take my leave now. I need to handle some matters."
His movements were deliberate as he turned to leave, each step measured and purposeful. But as he walked toward the door, his mind raced with the cold, murderous intent that swirled deep within him. "When I was in Eardoznia... he thought, his mind clouded with thoughts of his absence and the damage that had been caused in the meantime. A lot of things happened in my absence that hurt Evangeline. That won't happen again." His eyes were distant as he thought of her, a cold resolve taking root. The bruises of the past were fresh in his mind, and nothing—nothing—would stop him from protecting her.
The weight of the promise he'd made to himself lingered in the air as he left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed throughout the room.
"Have a good day, Mr. Anthony," Dominic said as he adjusted his coat, his tone polite but detached. He gave Anthony a brief nod before turning and walking toward the door. His movements were smooth and calculated, the sharp click of his boots echoing in the room as he exited.
Anthony watched him leave, a wicked chuckle escaping his lips once the door clicked shut. He sat back in his wheelchair, his fingers lightly tapping the armrests in a rhythmic, almost mocking fashion. His eyes lingered on the letter in his hand, the paper crinkling slightly under his grip.
When he was sure Dominic had gone, he snapped his fingers with an air of authority, his cold eyes never leaving the letter. A servant quickly appeared at his side, her posture respectful as she bowed her head.
"Help that young master with his investigation into the families," Anthony instructed, his voice low and sinister. "He's planning to assassinate some people tonight. If he's not careful, he could wipe out every last one of them, leaving no one left."
The servant nodded obediently, her expression unreadable as she bowed once more and quickly exited the room, leaving Anthony alone with his thoughts.
As the servant disappeared down the hall, Anthony's fingers resumed tapping on the armrest, the rhythmic sound reverberating through the quiet room. A dark glint flashed in his eyes. "I hope you don't act rashly, Mr. Brusward, "he mused inwardly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're no longer under your father's protection. You're vulnerable now, Dominic. "There are dangers waiting for you that you won't see coming.
His smile grew more sinister, the weight of the impending consequences hanging heavily in the air. The game was just beginning.
At night, Dominic stood on the small verandah of the towering city clock, the wind whipping through his hair as he gazed out over the sprawling city. The sound of the ticking clock above seemed to echo in the quiet, each second drawing him deeper into his thoughts. The sight from this height was mesmerizing—lights flickering like distant stars, streets winding through the dark, and the imposing silhouette of the Late Grand Duke Palace in the distance.
It's been a while since I've been here, he thought, his gaze lingering on the palace. He remembered the first time he met Evangeline there, the way she stood out like a beacon of light amid the shadows of the aristocracy. Her face flashed in his mind for a moment, and for the briefest second, his thoughts softened. But then, the whoosh of an owl soaring past broke his reverie. He blinked, refocusing. Enough of that.
With a sharp exhale, Dominic turned and walked into the clock tower, the familiar creak of the wooden floor beneath his boots and the distant tick-tock of the enormous clock reminding him of the passage of time—something he no longer had to waste. His hand brushed against the cold stone walls as he navigated the dark, narrow corners of the tower, alone with his thoughts.
"Goldyewn thinks I'm less of a threat because I'm no longer with my father..." The thought simmered in his mind, feeding the cold embers of his frustration. "And Anthony, too, underestimates me. Both of them believe my power is diminished, but they're wrong. They'll soon see." His jaw tightened as he walked, his pace quickening with the mounting tension.
The city's skyline, illuminated by sporadic lights, seemed to mirror his darkening mood. As he made his way through the tower, his mind raced. I've been handling missions successfully under Anthony's command, yet he still doubts me. I'll show them both just how much of a threat I can be. The storm that had been brewing in his mind now rumbled outside, thunder shaking the air in sync with his murderous intent.
Dominic's hand slid into his coat pocket, feeling the cold, reassuring weight of his gun. He stopped at a dark corner of the tower, pausing to load it with bullets. His movements were precise and practiced, as though he had done this a thousand times before. He pulled out his knives next, fingers brushing the blades with familiar ease, testing their balance. Each weapon was an extension of himself. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, the sound of the wind howling outside only heightening the tension within him.
With everything in place, Dominic turned and walked towards the estate where the Hawrick family resided. The storm raged outside, the lightning illuminating his path as he prepared for what lay ahead. He was ready—he had to be.
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