“You, there! Waiter!” The harsh voice, followed by the impatient snapping of fingers, jerked Dominic out of his lofty daydream. He traced the command to a table in the center of the large room, weaving swiftly around others as he made his way to the customer. “Good day,” Dominic began calmly. “You called for—?” “This was not what I ordered,” the man stated curtly, cutting Dominic off without remorse. For emphasis, he dropped his plate rather aggressively on the table, causing the ceramic to clatter loudly with the cutlery. “Well…” Dominic scratched the back of his neck. “What was it you ordered, sir?” The man—quite young from his facial appearance—frowned with a raised eyebrow. “Are you dumb? My steak is overcooked, the asparagus is charred, the sauce has less cheese and too much spice, and the cranberry is too sour.” He waved his hands over his food like he was trying to cast a spell. “This is definitely not what I ordered.” Dominic cleared

“Veronica?” Dominic finally managed to get his vocal cords to work. “I thought… I didn’t know you’d come back to New York. I thought you were still in college.” Standing in a fitted, glittering green dress with her long, light brown hair styled to flow over one shoulder, she gave a small shrug as she looked away. “I was in Canada for a while. I still am, in a way. I only returned briefly because…” Her voice trailed off. “Because…?” Dominic questioned with a step forward. He didn’t know what drew his eyes to her hands, but the sparkling, diamond-encrusted ring adorning her forefinger was incredibly hard to miss. Dominic frowned at the sight of it, his confused gaze angling back towards her face. “Veronica—” He never got to start his sentence. A solid blow suddenly landed on the right side of his face, promptly knocking him off balance. As he landed painfully on the steps, his head still spinning, Gregory hovered over him like an angry tower, his green eyes emitting

“Shit,” Anya cursed. “Language,” Dominic called out from the kitchen. He rinsed his hands in the sink and toweled them dry, tugging his backpack higher as he prepared to leave. “What’s up?” “Mom’s having one of those spasm episodes again.” “Shit,” Dominic muttered instantly. He hurried out of the kitchen and nearly stumbled in the narrow hallway, banging the wooden frame of the doorway with his shoulder as he came to a grinding halt at the entrance of the bedroom. Anya sat straight in her wheelchair, her hair pegged back in a neat ponytail, as her glassy eyes probed her brother. “Language,” she reminded him. Dominic’s gaze flew to the bed before his sister. Partly covered by white sheets, their mother thrashed around with closed eyes, but only slightly. It was still an unsettling sight to behold, so Dominic couldn’t figure out why Anya was so calm. “It seems like a light episode compared to the others Mom has had,” she explained, as if readin

“What the hell is going on here?” Dominic’s whisper morphed into a silent echo as he stepped into the large, empty hall. It was late morning, he knew that for sure, so he couldn’t understand why the Royal Diner was as abandoned as a haunted house when it was supposed to be a bustling spot of activity. No patient diners, no smiling waiters, no serenading music or ambient lighting. Just eerie silence and chairs stacked neatly on circular tables. “Interesting, isn’t it, Heathley?” Dominic froze at the sound of the voice coming from his far left—partly because he didn’t expect it, but mostly because he recognized the scornful baritone all too well. “For you, things like this are phenomenal,” Gregory continued as he stepped out of the shadow of a thick, brick pillar, wearing a three-piece brown cashmere suit and a wicked smile. “The fact that I was able to buy the majority of shares of this restaurant in just a few minutes and shut it down immediately afterw

“The rain,” Dominic observed as he glanced up. “It has finally stopped.” He looked down at his mother, crushed by how sick and fragile she looked. “We need to get you to the hospital. Maybe, while you rest and recover, I’ll find Anya.” With her hands still closed, Erica Heathley tapped a small device on her son’s thigh. When he looked down, Dominic noticed a cellphone in her hand, taking it from her grasp. “They… left this,” she informed him. “They wanted you to… have it.” It was soaking wet, but most phones were already waterproof anyway, so Dominic wasn’t surprised to see it switch on when he pushed the power button. What surprised—and horrified—him was the crackling audio that played from it. “Greetings, Mr. Heathley,” a masculine voice droned. “On behalf of the boss, we decided to pay you a little visit earlier today, concerning the agreement you had with him a couple of months ago. Sadly, we didn’t get to meet you, but we found your little sister in