Chapter 14 - My Wife Sat Beside the Man Who Threatened Her Sister
For three seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
Camille sat beside Dominic.
Not behind him.
Beside him.
A legal pad rested before her.
Her face was pale but composed.
Dominic smiled when I entered.
That smile told me he wanted me angry.
Old Vincent would have given him exactly what he wanted.
I took my seat.
Dante remained against the wall.
My attorney leaned close.
“Do not react.”
“I know.”
“I’m saying it because your face disagrees.”
Fair.
The chairman opened the meeting.
Dominic spoke first.
“None of us wants to be here.”
Lie number one.
“But this company cannot be held hostage by a family crisis.”
Lie number two.
He described my recent decisions as erratic.
He cited the closed warehouse.
The private surveillance.
The suspended medical shipments.
He avoided saying Lila’s name for seven full minutes.
Then he used it.
“We all have sympathy for Vincent’s daughter.”
Sympathy.
A word people use when they want distance from responsibility.
“But personal tragedy cannot override fiduciary duty.”
I said nothing.
That unsettled him.
He continued.
“Camille has agreed to explain the pressure she experienced inside the home.”
My eyes moved to her.
So that was the performance.
I had frightened her.
True.
My reputation had kept her silent.
True.
Dominic planned to use my own failures to hide his crime.
Smart.
Camille stood.
She looked at me once.
Then at the directors.
“My husband is a frightening man.”
Nobody moved.
“He has spent most of his adult life making fear useful.”
My attorney whispered, “Stay still.”
I almost laughed.
Camille continued.
“When I learned something might be wrong with the treatment Dr. Hale gave Lila, I was afraid to tell Vincent.”
Dominic leaned back slightly.
Confident.
“And that fear mattered,” Camille said.
My chest tightened.
“Because it gave another man room to control me.”
Dominic’s smile disappeared.
Camille turned toward him.
“That man was Dominic Moretti.”
The boardroom erupted.
He stood.
“This is absurd.”
Camille kept speaking.
“He showed me surveillance of my pregnant sister. He told me if I stopped administering the drops, she could have an accident.”
“You have no proof.”
Camille lifted her phone.
“Yes, I do.”
A recording.
Dominic’s voice.
Calm.
One sick child is better than one dead sister.
Silence.
He looked at her with naked hatred.
“You recorded me?”
“No.”
She pointed toward Tasha, who entered with an attorney.
“She did.”
Tasha had been in the foundation supply room that afternoon.
Her phone captured the argument through a half-open door.
Dominic’s face changed.
Not fear.
Calculation.
He recovered fast.
“A manipulated recording from an accused embezzler.”
Tasha’s attorney placed dismissal documents on the table.
Investigators had cleared her theft allegation that morning.
Dominic pivoted.
“Then ask why Camille continued the treatment.”
Camille’s eyes filled.
“I was afraid.”
“Exactly.”
He turned to the board.
“She is blaming me for her own conduct because her marriage is collapsing.”
Cruel.
Effective.
Camille flinched.
I wanted to defend her.
Then remembered Lila’s question.
Why wasn’t love enough?
Defending Camille from everything would only repeat the same mistake in reverse.
So I said, “Camille is responsible for her choices.”
She looked at me.
Pain.
Then understanding.
“And Dominic is responsible for his.”
Arthur Bell testified next.
No Amendment Four.
Forged seal.
Altered archive.
Dominic called it an administrative dispute.
Priya described the toxic injury.
Dominic called it preliminary.
Dominic tried another angle before Mercer spoke.
He looked at Camille.
“You understand testifying like this destroys any chance of repairing your marriage.”
My attorney whispered something profane.
Camille did not look at me.
“Yes.”
“You are willing to lose your husband?”
“This is not about whether Vincent takes me back.”
“Then what is it about?”
She finally turned toward him.
“Lila.”
One word.
Dominic smiled cruelly.
“You had three weeks to choose Lila.”
Camille’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
The boardroom went still.
No excuse.
No denial.
“I failed her for three weeks,” Camille said. “That does not make your threat imaginary. It makes both things true.”
Dominic had expected shame to silence her.
Instead she used it as evidence against herself.
He did not know what to do with someone who had stopped defending her own image.
Neither did I.
But I respected it.
Camille’s attorney touched her sleeve, quietly reminding her she did not have to answer another question.
Camille shook her head.
“I spent too long letting other people decide when I should speak.”
Dominic looked away.
That tiny movement mattered.
He had controlled her most effectively when she believed silence kept someone else safe.
The moment she accepted that speaking could also carry consequences, his leverage became smaller.
Not gone.
Smaller.
Sometimes freedom begins before fear ends.
Then Dr. Mercer joined by video.
She had independently reviewed Lila.
“Her condition cannot honestly be certified as permanent at this time.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
The emergency petition began collapsing.
Then he smiled.
That worried me.
He opened a red folder.
“Perhaps we should discuss the document Vincent has conveniently omitted.”
My attorney frowned.
Dominic distributed copies.
A medical-research consent form.
Seven years old.
Signed by Aaliyah Moretti.
It authorized experimental optic-neuroprotection research through a predecessor program to B-17.
My dead wife’s signature sat at the bottom.
Dominic looked at me.
“You want a villain?”
May you like
He tapped the page.
“Start with your wife.”
Related Stories
