Trial 5

The day I uncovered the first real lead in Dominic’s case was also the day I realized how deeply tangled this web of deceit truly was. I had spent hours poring over financial statements and corporate emails, following a thread that hinted at deliberate tampering from within Hayes Industries. It wasn’t easy—the trail was faint, and whoever was behind it clearly knew how to cover their tracks. But I was determined to untangle this mess, no matter how long it took.

As I reviewed an old email exchange between the company’s finance team, I noticed a peculiar pattern in the approvals of several high-value transactions. One name kept appearing—George Alvarado, a senior executive I hadn’t paid much attention to before. The dates of his approvals coincided suspiciously with the irregularities flagged by the auditors. My gut told me this wasn’t a coincidence.

I leaned back in my chair, the glow of my computer screen illuminating my office in the dim evening light. "Internal sabotage," I murmured to myself, my pulse quickening. If George was involved, it meant someone close to Dominic was working against him. This wasn’t just a case of external fraud—this was betrayal from within.

Before I could dig further, my phone buzzed on the desk. I picked it up, expecting a call from my assistant or someone on my team, but the number was unlisted. Frowning, I answered. "This is Serena Caldwell."

There was a pause, then a low, distorted voice on the other end. "Stop looking into Hayes Industries. You don’t know what you’re getting into."

The line went dead before I could respond. I stared at my phone, the chill of the threat settling over me like a cold fog. Someone knew I was getting closer, and they wanted me to back off.

---

Later that evening, I met Dominic in his office to discuss my findings. His penthouse office, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and sleek modern design, felt like a fortress in the sky. But tonight, even the glittering cityscape beyond the glass couldn’t distract me from the unease curling in my stomach.

"I’ve found something," I began, placing a folder on his desk. Dominic’s sharp gaze shifted from me to the folder, then back to me. "There’s evidence pointing to internal sabotage. One of your executives—George Alvarado—might be involved."

Dominic’s jaw tightened as he flipped through the documents. "George? He’s been with the company for years. Loyal, or so I thought."

"Sometimes, loyalty is an illusion," I said softly. "I’ll need more time to confirm, but the patterns are there. He approved several transactions tied to the fraudulent accounts."

Dominic closed the folder, his expression unreadable. "Keep digging. I’ll handle George."

Before I could respond, he added, "And what’s this about threats? My assistant told me you received a disturbing call today."

I blinked, momentarily thrown. "How did—never mind. Yes, I did. It was vague, but clearly meant to intimidate me. I’m not backing down, though."

Dominic’s eyes darkened. "You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’m hiring personal security for you."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off with a raised hand. "This isn’t negotiable, Serena. If someone is threatening you because of my case, it’s my responsibility to ensure your safety."

His tone left no room for debate. For a moment, I simply stared at him, taken aback by the protective edge in his voice. Dominic Hayes was many things—arrogant, enigmatic, infuriatingly stubborn—but I hadn’t expected this.

"Fine," I said at last, crossing my arms. "But don’t think this makes me any less capable of handling myself."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I wouldn’t dare."

---

That night, Dominic insisted I join him for dinner in his private dining room. I initially declined, citing the mountain of work waiting for me, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. "You need to eat, Serena," he said, his tone more commanding than concerned. "And I’d like to hear more about your findings."

The dining room was just as luxurious as the rest of his penthouse, with a long table set against a backdrop of the glittering city. The table was already set, and the aroma of freshly prepared dishes filled the air. I hesitated at the doorway, suddenly hyper-aware of the intimacy of the setting. This wasn’t just a professional dinner—it felt personal.

As we sat down, Dominic poured us both a glass of wine. "To progress," he said, raising his glass.

I clinked my glass against his. "To uncovering the truth," I countered.

For a while, we ate in comfortable silence. The food was exquisite—grilled salmon with a tangy lemon sauce, paired with roasted vegetables. I had to admit, Dominic knew how to live well.

"You don’t talk much about yourself," Dominic said after a while, breaking the silence. His tone was casual, but his gaze was probing.

"I prefer to focus on my work," I replied, spearing a piece of asparagus with my fork. "Personal details have a way of complicating things."

He tilted his head, studying me. "And yet, you’re here, sharing dinner with me. That’s personal, isn’t it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Is it? You were the one who insisted."

Dominic chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent an unexpected warmth through me. "Fair enough. But if we’re going to work together, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let the walls down a little."

"Why? So you can psychoanalyze me?" I said, half-joking.

"Not at all. I just think there’s more to you than the fierce lawyer who takes on impossible cases."

I paused, his words catching me off guard. "There’s more to everyone," I said quietly, looking down at my plate. "But that doesn’t mean we need to share it."

Dominic didn’t press further, and for that, I was grateful. But the silence that followed was heavy, charged with unspoken thoughts.

After dinner, as we lingered over our wine, Dominic leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant. "You were right about loyalty being an illusion," he said suddenly. "Adrian—my cousin—taught me that lesson years ago. We grew up together, practically brothers, but when our parents died, everything changed. He resented that I inherited the company, even though I offered to share it with him."

I listened, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. Dominic Hayes didn’t strike me as the type to open up easily, yet here he was, sharing a piece of his past.

"And George?" I asked gently. "Do you think he’s another Adrian?"

"I don’t know," Dominic admitted. "But if he is, I’ll deal with him. I’ve learned not to let emotions cloud my judgment."

For a moment, I saw past the billionaire facade to the man beneath—the one who had been shaped by loss and betrayal, yet still carried the weight of his responsibilities. It was a side of Dominic I hadn’t expected, and it left me unsettled.

As I left his penthouse later that night, escorted by the security detail he’d arranged, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this case was more than just a professional challenge. It was personal—for both of us. And that terrified me more than any threat ever could.