Chapter 149 Chapter 149
Dominic’s POV
Zurich feels too clean for the kind of truth I’m chasing. The streets gleam after the morning rain, the air sharp enough to bite. Even the light here feels sterile, like the city’s built to disinfect secrets, not expose them but some stains don’t wash out, no matter how much money is poured over them.
I wait outside a small café tucked behind the Bahnhofstrasse, hood pulled low, coffee cooling untouched beside me. My contact is late, but that’s not surprising. Lawyers are never on time when guilt’s in the mix. When he finally appears, I almost don’t recognize him.
Julian Hart used to look untouchable, expensive suits, hair slicked back, the kind of man who could lie for a living and sleep just fine after. Now his coat hangs loose on him, eyes rimmed red, as if every hour of the last fourteen years finally caught up.
“Dominic,” he says quietly, hesitating before sitting down. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Neither did I,” I answer. “But here we are.”
He tries for a smile, it dies halfway. “If this is about the case, I told you everything I could back then. We…”
“You didn’t tell me everything.” The words are sharper than I intend, but I don’t apologize. I’ve waited too long to be polite.
He exhales, glancing around the café. “You really shouldn’t be here. Zurich isn’t safe for you.”
“Because of Stanley?” His silence says everything.
“Tell me about the deal,” I press.
He looks at me, brow furrowing. “What deal?”
“The one that made me plead down instead of fight.” I lean forward, voice low. “You said it was the only way to keep Camilla and me out of the press. That it would protect what was left of Elia’s memory.”
Julian looks away. “It did.”
“No,” I snap. “It buried it. It buried her.”
His jaw tightens. I can see the war behind his eyes, between self-preservation and guilt. Guilt’s losing.
“I’ve reopened the records,” I continue. “I know the plea wasn’t official. There’s no court transcript, no signature from the presiding judge. It was sealed before it even hit the docket.”
Julian’s hand trembles slightly as he lifts his cup, but he doesn’t drink. “Dominic, you don’t want to dig this up.”
“I already have.”
He sets the cup down with a small clink. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
He studies me for a long time before the fight drains out of him completely. When he speaks, it’s quiet, almost a confession.
“Stanley paid me.”
The words hang between us, small but seismic.
I feel my pulse slow, the way it does before a punch lands. “Say that again.”
Julian looks up, shame carved into every line of his face. “Stanley paid me. To push you toward a plea. To keep you quiet.”
The café noise fades and the chatter, the clinking cups, the sound of rain outside until it’s just the two of us and the truth sitting like a loaded gun on the table.
I stare at him, unable to breathe. “You were supposed to defend me.”
“I did defend you,” he says quickly. “The deal wasn’t supposed to hurt you. He said it would protect you that there were things you didn’t understand, things bigger than the case.”
“Things like what?”
Julian hesitates, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. Then, in a whisper: “Like the child.”
My grip tightens around my coffee cup. “What did he tell you?”
“That Elia had made arrangements before she disappeared,” he says. “That if the truth came out about the baby, about where she went your life would be over. He said the plea would seal everything away. No investigation, no questions. You’d serve time, stay quiet, and when you came out, you’d have enough money waiting to start over.”
I laugh, but it’s humorless. “He bought my silence.”
“He bought your freedom,” Julian insists. “At least what was left of it.”
“My freedom?” I slam my hand on the table hard enough to rattle the cups. “I lost everything. My wife. My child. My career. My name. And you call that freedom?”
Heads turn from nearby tables. Julian shrinks into himself, lowering his voice. “I didn’t know what he’d done. I swear, Dominic. I thought he was protecting someone. Maybe even you.”
“Protecting me?” I hiss. “He took my daughter.”
Julian’s eyes widen, horror dawning as the words hit. “He… he what?”
“She’s alive,” I say. “Living under his name in Zurich. He’s been funding her through shell accounts for years.”
Julian’s face drains of color. “That can’t be….”
“I’ve seen her.”
He goes silent, hand trembling as he runs it through his thinning hair. “Jesus Christ,” he murmurs. “All these years…”
“Tell me everything,” I demand. “How did Stanley get to you? What did he offer?”
Julian hesitates, but the look in my eyes must convince him this isn’t the moment for half-truths.
“It started with a call,” he says quietly. “A week after your arrest. He told me he represented Elia’s family, that they wanted discretion. He said if you went to trial, the evidence would destroy you, rumors about infidelity, about violence, about the child’s paternity.”
My jaw clenches. “He made it sound like the baby wasn’t mine.”
Julian nods. “He showed me documents of DNA reports, sworn statements. All fabricated, I know that now. But then? They looked real. He said he’d make sure you walked away with probation if you pleaded to obstruction, but only if you agreed never to contest the disappearance publicly.”
“So I’d look guilty without ever being convicted.”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.
“And you took his money,” I say flatly.
Julian’s voice cracks. “I thought I was saving you, Dominic. He made it sound like there was no other way. He said Elia was already gone, that someone needed to protect what was left of your life.”
I lean back, breathing hard. Every part of me wants to hit something, the table, the wall, him. But anger won’t get me what I need. Not now.
“How much?” I ask.
Julian looks ashamed. “Half a million. Wired through a consultancy in Hong Kong. I returned it five years later, after I found out he’d used me. But it doesn’t matter. The damage was done.”
“It matters,” I say. “Because now you’re going to help me undo it.”
He shakes his head. “Dominic, listen to me, you don’t understand who Stanley really is. He’s not just a CEO. He’s…..”
“a parasite in a tailored suit,” I cut in. “I understand perfectly.”
Julian leans closer. “You don’t. He’s been feeding information to people who make men like me disappear for less than what I’m telling you right now. If he knows you’re in Zurich…..”
“He already knows.”