Page 76 of Bound in Ruin

My jaw drops, and I gawk at him in absolute silence.

It is an impossibly sweet, breathtaking sentiment. The realization that Dominic saw my victory—my freedom—as the ultimate, most precious moment to uncork a hundred-year-old bottle of wine hits me straight in the chest.

And right alongside that realization comes a quiet twist of shame that makes me want to curse myself.

Through this entire, bloody ordeal, a tiny, dark seed of doubt had been planted in the back of my mind. He was fighting so hard. He booked that ridiculous, expensive cooking class just to corner Judge Sterling and his wife. He hunted down the judge’s darkest secrets, orchestrating a ruthless, airtight leverage campaign. He moved mountains, spent fortunes, and risked everything.

A cynical part of me—the part shaped by a lifetime of my father’s and late husband’s cold, transactional world—had convinced itself that Dominic must have a hidden stake in this. That he had something to gain.

I couldn't fathom that a man could do all of this purely for my happiness. No one in my life had ever gone that far for me. No one except my sisters.

Gosh. Dominic was perfect. He was truly, utterly perfect.

A rush of intense gratitude overwhelms me. I step in close, setting my glass down, and push up on my tiptoes to press a lingering, heartfelt kiss against his sharp cheekbone.

"Thank you, Dominic," I whisper against his skin, my voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for all your help... and for fighting so selflessly for me."

For a fraction of a second, the reaction I expect doesn't come. A dark, unreadable shadow crosses his eyes. It flickers so fast I almost miss it—a heavy, flickering glitch of something that looks dangerously like guilt or sadness.

But before I can even process it, the shadow clears, his features smoothing back into his usual, unbothered composure.

He gently reaches for my wine glass from the marble counter and places it back into my hands, his fingers brushing mine.

"It's my pleasure," he says softly, his gravelly voice smooth and controlled. "Drink up."

I swallow the rich wine, letting out a soft hum at the velvet-smooth taste on my tongue.

"I have half a feeling Dante won't hand over my things so easily," I say conversationally. "He looked like he wanted to burn the world down. With me in it."

Dominic softly shakes his head, resting his forearm against the marble bar. "The law has ruled that it's yours. If he withholds a single asset, he's committing a crime. He has no choice. He has to hand over everything—even down to Luciano's private files."

"I don't need his private files," I scoff softly, taking another small sip. "Dante can keep that junk. I just want what's rightfully mine."

Over the rim of my glass, I see something that makes me pause. A sharp flare of pure, unmistakable alarm flashes through Dominic's eyes. It hits me like a sudden jolt to the chest, ringing a loud, terrifying warning bell deep within my gut.

I set the glass down with a soft click against the marble. "What?"

Dominic catches himself instantly, smoothly laughing it off as he takes a slow sip from his own glass.

"I just want to make sure you have complete control over everything," he says smoothly, offering a small, crooked smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "After the hell he put you through—and after the horror of walking in on his body, finding him dead with his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling—you deserve every last scrap of what he left behind."

I laugh. “"That image will haunt me for days. I am—" The words die on my tongue.

I freeze, the room spinning into a sudden, suffocating tilt as the full weight of what he just said crashes down on me.

How did Dominic know the state in which I found Luciano?

No one else knew. Absolutely no one.

When I walked into his room that night after returning from the clinic, Luciano was already cold, staring wide-eyed and lifeless up at the ceiling.

In a moment of shock, I had done him one last mercy—I had gently pulled his eyelids down, closing his eyes forever before anyone else came rushing into the room.

By the time the guards, the family, ambulance, and the police arrived, his eyes were closed.

How did Dominic know?

The rich, hundred-year-old wine suddenly turns to absolute ash in my mouth, tasting like piss on my tongue. The warmth in my chest vanishes, instantly replaced by a blaring, nauseating wave of pure dread and horror.