She Tore the Waitress’s Dress in Front of Everyone and Then the Most Feared Man in Chicago Called Her His Wife

The private elevator screeched to a halt on the top floor of the Raines Building. The double doors opened, and Clara burst into the executive corridor, her coat flying behind her, her face pale with fury and lingering shock.

Miles, standing guard outside Dominic's office, stepped forward in surprise. "Mrs. Raines? What are you doing here? Frank reported—"

"Where is he?" she demanded, stepping past him without stopping.

"He's in a meeting with the port authority board—"

Clara didn't wait for Miles to finish. She pushed open the double oak doors of the grand boardroom, slamming them back against the leather-padded walls with a loud thud.

Inside, twelve men in dark suits sat around a thirty-foot glass table. At the head of the table sat Dominic, a pen suspended in his hand, mid-sentence.

Every head turned toward the doorway in shock.

Dominic’s eyes widened as he saw Clara standing there, her chest heaving, her hair slightly disheveled from the wind outside. He immediately set his pen down and stood up, dismissing the room with a single gesture of his hand.

"Gentlemen," Dominic said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The meeting is adjourned. Leave us."

The twelve board members gathered their folders in frantic silence, practically tripping over one another as they rushed out the side exit, closing the door behind them.

Once the room was clear, Dominic walked quickly toward Clara, his face filled with immediate concern. "Clara, what happened? Frank called Miles ten minutes ago, but he said—"

Clara didn't speak. She reached into her handbag, pulled out the velvet-lined box, and slammed it onto the glass boardroom table between them.

The small silver pocket watch tumbled out of the velvet lining, skidding across the dark glass until it stopped right in front of Dominic’s hands.

Dominic’s breath hitched. He froze, staring down at the cracked, blood-stained watch as if he had just seen a ghost from his deepest nightmare.

"He came to the shelter, Dominic," Clara said, her voice shaking with an intense mixture of anger and fear. "Silas Harrow walked right past your guards, stood three feet away from me, and put his father's blood in my hands."

Dominic’s face turned into a mask of terrifying, demonic rage. The veins on his neck bulged against his collar, and his hands clenched into tight fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Miles!" Dominic roared, his voice echoing off the glass walls like thunder.

The door flew open, and Miles rushed into the room, his gun drawn. "Boss!"

"How did Harrow get within ten feet of my wife?" Dominic barked, stepping toward Miles like a predator ready to pounce. "I gave you four extra men! I told you to secure the perimeter!"

"Boss, Harrow didn't bring any muscle," Miles stammered, his face pale. "He came in a standard yellow taxi, dressed in a civilian suit. The guards checked his pockets for weapons—he didn't have any iron on him. Under the shelter's public access rules, we couldn't stop him from entering the lobby without causing a public scene!"

"I don't give a damn about a public scene!" Dominic shouted, slamming his fist down on the glass table with enough force to send a spiderweb crack running through the corner. "If he steps within a hundred yards of her again, you shoot him in the street!"

"Dominic! Stop it!" Clara cried out, stepping between Dominic and Miles.

Dominic stopped, his heavy chest heaving as he fought to control his breathing. He looked down at Clara, his dark eyes wide with wild, unbridled fury.

"Leave us, Miles," Clara ordered quietly, without taking her eyes off her husband.

Miles hesitated, then lowered his gun and stepped back out into the hallway, closing the heavy doors behind him.

The boardroom fell into a suffocating, heavy silence.

"You lied to me," Clara whispered, her voice filled with deep pain. "You told me Harrow was an old memory. You told me the docks were clean."

"They are clean!" Dominic insisted, his voice raspy as he took a step toward her, his hands raised in desperation. "I spent five years clearing the river, Clara! I bought out every corrupt official, I closed every illegal distribution route, I forced every smuggler off the lake! I did all of it so I could stand before you as an honest man!"

"Then why is he back?" she demanded, tears enfin brimming in her eyes. "Why did he give me this watch? Why did he tell me that blood doesn't wash out?"

Dominic looked away, his jaw working silently as he stared at the cracked silver watch on the table.

"Because he knows my weakest point," Dominic said softly, his voice dropping into a register of profound, agonizing vulnerability. "My father died on Pier 4 because he hesitated. He tried to make a deal with Harrow instead of eliminating him when he had the chance. Harrow cut his throat and took his watch as a trophy."

Dominic looked back at Clara, his eyes dark with ancient grief.

"For ten years, I hunted Harrow to get that watch back," Dominic confessed, every word coming out like a broken shard of glass. "Not because I wanted the silver, Clara. But because I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't weak like my father. But when I finally cornered him in 2021, I didn't kill him. I let him walk away into exile because... because I had just met you. I didn't want blood on my hands the day I asked you to marry me."

Clara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as the truth hit her like a physical blow.

"You let him live... for me?" she whispered.

"And now he’s back to use my mercy against me," Dominic said, stepping closer to her, his long fingers gently cupping her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears that had spilled onto her skin. "He thinks because I love you, I have grown soft. He thinks he can use you to drag me back into the dark."

Dominic leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath warm and frantic against her lips.

"Listen to me, Clara," he growled low, a fierce, protective oath echoing in his chest. "I will not let him hurt you. I will not let him destroy the life we built. I am going to end this. Once and for all."

"Dominic, no," Clara sobbed, wrapping her hands around his wrists. "Don't go back to that world. Don't become the man they want you to be. If you kill him, you lose everything we fought for!"

Dominic kissed her forehead—a long, agonizing kiss full of love and sorrow.

"I lost my soul a long time ago, Clara," he whispered softly. "I only found it again when I met you. And I will burn in hell for eternity before I let Silas Harrow take my soul away again."

He pulled gently away from her grip, turned toward the broken glass table, and picked up the cracked silver watch. He shoved it into his coat pocket, turned on his heel, and walked out of the boardroom without looking back.