Chapter 8: What Dominic Did Not Expect
Dominic Vance made his mistake on a Tuesday.
Three weeks had passed since the hospital.
Nora was home.
The Vance house — the main estate where Eleanor had lived since Julian's father died — had been quiet in a way that felt less like peace and more like held breath.
Julian and I were staying in our own home, the townhouse we had bought the year before Nora was born.
My mother had extended her visit by two weeks, sleeping in the guest room, appearing each morning with coffee already made and no questions unless I wanted to answer them.
I was at the kitchen table, Nora asleep in the bassinet beside me, reviewing a document Warren had sent, when Julian came in from the front hallway.
"Dominic is outside," he said.
I looked up.
"He's here?"
"On the front step.
He says he wants to talk to you directly.
Without attorneys." Julian's voice was careful.
"I told him to wait.
I wanted to ask you first."
I thought about it for exactly four seconds.
"Let him in," I said.
"But stay."
Dominic came into the kitchen looking like a man who had not slept in three weeks, which was probably accurate.
His suit was correct but his eyes were not.
He looked at Nora in the bassinet for a brief moment — something moved across his face that I couldn't name — and then he looked at me.
"Clara." He didn't sit.
"I'm not here with an offer.
I'm not here on Eleanor's behalf.
She doesn't know I'm here."
"All right," I said.
"I want to tell you something." He put his hands in his pockets.
"What happened in that hospital room — what I did — I've been an attorney for twenty-two years.
I have never done anything like that.
I want you to know that."
"Why?" I asked.
He blinked.
"Because it's true."
"That's not what I mean.
Why did you do it, if it was so far outside what you'd done before?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"Eleanor asked me to.
She's been asking me to do things for this family for thirty years.
I've always found a way to justify it." He looked at the table.
"I told myself the psychiatric petition was protective.
That you were genuinely struggling.
That the baby would be better—" He stopped.
"I knew it wasn't true.
I knew it when I was drafting the documents.
I did it anyway."
Julian said nothing.
He was leaning against the counter with his arms folded.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Because Warren Holt's office called me yesterday.
They're offering me a cooperation agreement.
Full testimony on the foundation, on Pruitt, on Eleanor's role in everything.
In exchange for a reduced charge on the confinement conspiracy." He met my eyes.
"I wanted you to hear from me directly that I intend to take it.
And that my testimony will be complete.
I won't protect Eleanor.
I won't minimize what she planned or what she directed me to do."
I looked at him for a long time.
"Dominic.
Did you know about the facility?
The doctor in Westchester?"
He didn't look away.
"Yes."
"Did you know about the ninety-day minimum?"
"Yes."
"Did you know Eleanor intended it to be extended if I caused problems?"
A pause.
"She said it might need to be flexible.
I didn't ask her to be more specific." He exhaled.
"I should have."
Nora made a small sound in the bassinet.
All three of us looked at her.
She settled back into sleep.
"Take the cooperation agreement," I said.
"Tell Warren everything.
Don't leave anything out to protect yourself or Eleanor or anyone else." I kept my voice even.
"And understand that whatever reduced charge you receive, it will still follow you.
Your bar license will be reviewed.
Your reputation is already changed.
That's not something a cooperation agreement fixes."
"I know," he said.
"Good." I looked back at my document.
"You can see yourself out."
He left.
Julian waited until the front door closed.
Then he came to the table and sat across from me.
"Do you believe him?" he asked.
"That he's genuinely remorseful?"
"It doesn't matter," I said.
"What matters is that his testimony is accurate.
His feelings about it are his own problem."
Julian was quiet for a moment.
"You're harder than I realized."
"I'm precise," I said.
"There's a difference."
He looked at Nora.
"She's going to be like you," he said.
"I hope so," I said.
His phone buzzed on the table.
He looked at the screen.
His expression shifted.
"It's Eleanor," he said.
We both looked at the phone.
"She's never called me directly during the investigation," he said.
"Marsh told her not to contact anyone."
"Answer it," I said.
He picked up the phone and put it on speaker.
"Julian." Eleanor's voice was different.
Not the controlled, elegant voice I had known for three years.
Something underneath it had given way.
"I need to speak with you.
Alone.
Not at the house.
Somewhere private."
Julian looked at me.
I nodded once.
"I'll come to you," he said.
"But Clara will know where I am.
And I won't be keeping anything she says from my wife."
A long pause.
"Fine," Eleanor said.
"Come to the garden house.
Tonight."
The call ended.
Julian set the phone down.
"She's going to try one more thing," he said.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"Let her."
