Chapter 125 One Hundred & Twenty five
Dominic stayed in his penthouse office that night.
The city lights stretched endlessly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, glittering like a thousand tiny fires.
He stood there, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, staring at the tablet in his hands.
He didn’t want to go home. Sienna was probably with one of her men, fucking in their bed. Two years had passed since he caught her cheating. The truth? It didn’t hurt him. He didn’t care.
He wished he could find pleasure in another woman’s arms, but he couldn’t. Not since Izzy left. Six years. Six years of celibacy.
Dominic set the tablet down on the glass desk with a soft thud.
He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the city lights as it spilled into the glass. He swirled it slowly, watching the ice clink, the sound oddly soothing.
He took a long sip, letting the burn settle in his chest. It was a familiar comfort. Sharp, bitter, and honest… unlike the lies and games surrounding him.
He leaned against the window, glass in hand, staring down at the streets below. People moved like ants, busy, unaware. Unaware of everything he was feeling.
A bitter laugh escaped him. “Six years,” he muttered to himself. “Six years… and for what?”
His fingers tightened around the glass. The thought of Izzy.. her laugh, her confidence, the way she looked at life like nothing could touch her.. made his chest ache.
He wanted to hate her for leaving. He wanted to forget. But every instinct in him screamed the opposite.
Dominic took another sip, the alcohol doing nothing to dull the ache. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining her smiling at Steven, imagining the life she had built without him.
And yet… a part of him knew he couldn’t leave it be. He never could.
He stared at the private investigator’s report that had just arrived. He needed to know everything.. zwhat she had done, what she had become, why his life had been nothing for the past six years.
He scrolled slowly, letting each line sink in.
Isabella Valenti.
Formerly Isabella Hart.
Left the country six years ago.
Relocated to Australia.
Built Aeros Finances, partnered with Valenti Holdings and Steven Valenti.
Investments across energy, technology, and infrastructure.
Net worth… 36 trillion dollars.
Dominic exhaled slowly, the air sharp in his lungs.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath.
He set the tablet down for a moment, running a hand through his hair. The city lights outside couldn’t reach the storm inside him.
She hadn’t just survived. She hadn’t just thrived. She had crushed the world.. built an empire while he had… wasted years missing her.
He kept reading.
Photos appeared on the screen.
Business events.
Charity galas.
International conferences.
Then another photo came up.
Dominic’s thumb froze.
The picture showed Izzy walking out of a school building.
Beside her…
A small boy, holding her hand. The boy he had seen once, at the charity ball, the night he’d seen her again after six years.
Dark hair.
Bright eyes.
Maybe five or six years old.
Dominic stared at the screen, heart tightening.
Something about the boy’s face… it struck him in a way he hadn’t expected.
Beneath the photo, the investigator’s note:
Brian Valenti.
Age: 5.
Son of Steven Valenti.
Dominic leaned back slowly in his chair.
His jaw tightened, his expression hardening.
“Can’t believe she’s a mother now,” he muttered.
Quiet. Cold.
But his eyes didn’t leave the boy’s picture.
Because there was something about him.. something about that small face.. that felt… familiar.
Dominic sat alone in the dim light, the city stretching endlessly beyond the windows.
For an hour, he didn’t move.
The tablet glowed softly on the desk in front of him.
He opened Brian’s photo once more.
And stared. Longer than before.
The boy’s smile looked… strangely familiar.
Dominic leaned closer.
The eyes.
The shape of the jaw.
The way he held his head.
A chill ran through him.
Dominic exhaled slowly.
“Impossible,” he murmured.
But the thought wouldn’t leave.
It can’t be… there’s no way…
What if that boy…
His phone buzzed. Again.
A new message from the investigator.
Found something interesting. Calling now.
Dominic’s chest tightened.
He answered immediately.
“What did you find?” His voice was calm, but cold.
“There’s something unusual about the boy’s birth records,” the investigator said.
Dominic’s grip on the phone tightened.
“What kind of unusual?”
A pause.
The investigator’s voice dropped. “The father’s name… wasn’t listed on the original birth certificate.”
Dominic froze.
“Not listed?” he repeated, disbelief threading through the words.
“No.”
He stared out at the dark city, lights flickering like distant stars.
His voice fell to a whisper, barely audible even to himself.
“Brian…”
A slow, dangerous pulse of realization began to form.
Dominic poured himself another drink, the amber liquid sliding down smoothly, burning just enough to feel like something.
He took a long sip, his eyes fixed on the tablet, on Brian’s photo.
It can’t be, he muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around the glass.
Why would Izzy…?
The thought stopped him cold. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. No. I need to know the truth. I have to ask her tomorrow.
He leaned back in the chair, swirling the drink in slow circles, letting the cold glass burn against his palm.
The city lights outside were bright, indifferent. The night felt too quiet, too still, like the world had paused for him to figure it out.
Another sip. Another long, silent minute.
She kept this from me?
The anger rose, but it wasn’t loud. It was slow, simmering, like fire just beneath the skin.
Dominic stared at the boy’s face again. The familiar tilt of his head. The same eyes… the same jaw.
His jaw flexed. Tomorrow.
He would ask her tomorrow. No excuses. No sidesteps. He would get answers.
Another drink. Another heavy breath.
The amber liquid did nothing to calm the storm inside him. If anything, it made it worse.
Dominic set the glass down with a soft thud and stared out at the city once more.
This changes everything.
And for the first time in six years, he realized that whatever he had lost… whatever he had thought he could forget… he might have gained something.