Chapter 2 - The House on Esplanade
The transition from the sun-bleached glass of San Diego to the shadowy, moss-draped humidity of New Orleans felt like stepping into another era. Dominic did not take her to a hotel or a corporate compound; he brought her to a grand, historic three-story mansion on Esplanade Avenue in the French Quarter.
The estate was flanked by wrought-iron gates, surrounded by magnolia trees, and guarded by men who wore dark suits with discreet holsters beneath their jackets.
"This is my family's estate," Dominic said, leading her through double mahogany doors into a vast library lined with floor-to-ceiling books and heavy leather armchairs. "No one enters this perimeter without my explicit permission. Adrian Mercer’s security team couldn't get within three blocks of this street."
Evelyn set her canvas bag down on the polished antique table. "Why are you helping me, Mr. Vale?"
Dominic poured two glasses of sparkling water, handing one to her. He didn't look at her with pity or patronizing warmth. He looked at her with the sharp, evaluating glare of a master strategist who had finally found the missing piece of a chessboard.
"Two reasons," Dominic stated evenly. "First, I loathe men who steal from the women who built them. Second, Adrian Mercer is currently trying to buy three commercial piers in the Port of New Orleans using fraudulent capital. If he secures those piers, he undermines my family's shipping network."
"And Mercer Renewal?" Evelyn asked.
"Mercer Renewal is the public mask he's using to secure municipal tax grants in Louisiana," Dominic explained, stepping closer. "He presented your designs to the city council yesterday as Sloane Whitmore's original work. The council was enchanted. They are preparing to award him a forty-million-dollar waterfront development contract next month."
Evelyn felt a hot, bright spark of anger flare behind her ribs. "He took my mother's philosophy. He took her memory and turned it into a money-laundering front."
Dominic reached out, his long fingers gently picking up the clothbound notebook from her bag. He opened it, turning the pages slowly—pages filled with intricate watercolor sketches, fabric swatches, and handwritten notes about ethical labor and recycled thread.
"These aren't just sketches," Dominic murmured, his eyes lingering on a detailed drawing of a structured wool coat. "This is genius. And Adrian Mercer doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as this book."
May you like
He looked up, meeting her eyes directly. "So, Evelyn. Do you want to hide... or do you want to burn his empire to the ground?"
Evelyn straightened her shoulders, her dark eyes flashing with absolute resolve. "I want to burn it."
