The deposition was scheduled for 10:00 AM in a conference room at Crane Consolidated's downtown offices. Victor Crane's lawyers had requested it as part of a countersuit—defamation, they claimed, because Blackwood's public announcement of an independent investigation had implied Crane's involvement in the Millfield contamination. Now Elena was sitting across from Dominic in the back of a sedan, reviewing the deposition strategy for the third time.
"You don't answer anything about the investigation," she said, her eyes on the tablet in her lap. "You don't speculate. You don't give them anything they can use to delay or discredit."
Dominic sat beside her, immaculate in a navy suit, his expression unreadable. "I know how a deposition works, Ms. Shaw."
"Then you know their goal isn't to find the truth. It's to provoke you, to make you angry, to get you to say something they can twist." She looked up at him. "Crane's lawyers are sharks. They'll go after your temper, your reputation, your father's death if they think it will rattle you."
Something flickered in his eyes—a warning, perhaps, or a memory. "They can try."
"They will try." She held his gaze. "That's why I'm here. When they push, you look at me. You don't answer until I tell you to."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Giving orders now?"
"Keeping you from walking into a trap." She set the tablet aside. "You hired me to be your conscience, remember? Consider this me doing my job."
The smile faded. He studied her for a moment, his gray eyes unreadable. "And if I can't control my temper? If they say something that makes me want to break their lawyer's jaw?"
"Then I'll handle it." She said it without hesitation. "That's what you're paying me for."
His gaze dropped to her mouth for a fraction of a second, then back to her eyes. "I'm paying you to find the truth. The rest is… personal."
The word hung between them, charged with something Elena refused to name. She looked away, reaching for the door handle as the car pulled to a stop.
"Then let's go find it."
Crane Consolidated's offices occupied an entire floor of a building that tried too hard. Gold fixtures, marble columns, art that screamed wealth without taste. Elena had expected Victor Crane to be there, lurking in the background, but the conference room contained only their team, a court reporter, and three lawyers from Crane's legal firm—a sharp-faced woman named Diana Reeves and two associates who looked like they'd been hired for their ability to intimidate.
Diana Reeves smiled when Elena walked in. It didn't reach her eyes.
"Ms. Shaw. I was expecting someone… older."
"I'm sure you were." Elena took a seat at the table, positioning herself beside Dominic. "Let's get started."
The first hour was routine. Diana asked about Blackwood's business practices, his relationship with the Millfield plant, the timeline of the contamination. Dominic answered each question with clinical precision, his voice flat, his expression blank. Elena watched him carefully, noting the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled against the table when Diana asked about the day the first child fell ill.
"Mr. Blackwood, when did you first become aware that residents of Millfield were reporting health issues?"
"I was briefed by my environmental compliance team in March of last year."
"And what did you do with that information?"
"I ordered a full investigation of the plant's emissions and water discharge systems."
"But the plant continued to operate during that investigation." Diana's voice was honey over steel. "For how many months?"
Dominic's jaw tightened. "Four."
"Four months." Diana made a note, her pen scratching against the paper. "During which time, how many children in Millfield developed respiratory illnesses?"
"I don't have that number."
"Shall I provide it? I have the medical records here." She reached for a folder. "Twenty-three children, Mr. Blackwood. Three of them hospitalized. One requiring a respirator. All while you were 'investigating.'"
Elena touched Dominic's arm under the table, a warning. His muscles were rigid beneath her fingers.
"The investigation was standard protocol," he said, his voice controlled. "We had no evidence at that time that the plant was the source."
"And now you do?" Diana's smile sharpened. "Your recent announcement suggested you believe the contamination was orchestrated by a competitor. Is that your official position?"
Dominic glanced at Elena. She gave a small nod.
"Yes," he said. "Evidence has come to light suggesting that the data used in the original trial was manipulated, and that the actual source of the contamination was a facility operated by a rival company using Blackwood's pipelines without authorization."
"A rival company." Diana leaned back in her chair, savoring the moment. "You're referring to Crane Consolidated?"
"I'm not referring to any specific entity at this time."
"Of course not." Diana set down her pen. "Let me ask you something else, Mr. Blackwood. Your father, Henry Blackwood, was killed in an industrial accident at one of your plants. Is that correct?"
Elena's hand tightened on Dominic's arm. She felt him go still, the stillness of a predator before it strikes.
"That was twenty years ago," he said, his voice ice.
"Twenty-two years," Diana corrected. "The accident was ruled a malfunction. But you've always believed otherwise, haven't you? You've spent millions on private investigations, trying to prove that your father was murdered by a competitor. Isn't that true?"
Dominic's eyes had gone completely flat, the gray drained of all warmth. "My father's death is not relevant to this deposition."
"Isn't it?" Diana's voice was soft, almost gentle. "Because I can't help noticing a pattern, Mr. Blackwood. When your father died, you blamed a competitor. When your plant poisoned a village, you blamed a competitor. When evidence in your trial disappeared, you blamed a competitor. At what point do you take responsibility for your own failures?"
The silence was absolute. Elena could feel the fury radiating off Dominic, a heat that seemed to fill the room. His hands were white-knuckled on the table.
She leaned close, her lips almost brushing his ear. "Don't," she whispered. "She wants you to react. Don't give her anything."
For a long moment, she wasn't sure he'd heard her. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. He took a breath, let it out.
"Ms. Reeves," he said, his voice perfectly controlled, "my father's death was a tragedy. The contamination in Millfield was a tragedy. I am here to ensure that those responsible are held accountable, whether that is me or anyone else. If you have evidence of my personal negligence, I invite you to present it. If not, I suggest we move on."
Diana's smile didn't waver, but her eyes betrayed her disappointment. She had tried to break him, and he hadn't cracked.
"Of course," she said. "Let's talk about your new legal counsel, then. Ms. Shaw—you lost the original case against Blackwood Industries, didn't you?"
Elena felt Dominic shift beside her, ready to intervene. She placed a hand on his knee under the table, stilling him.
"I did," she said calmly. "The evidence I had was incomplete."
"And now you're working for the man you tried to convict." Diana's eyes glittered. "That's quite a pivot. How much is he paying you to change your story?"
Elena smiled, the expression cool and deliberate. "My fee is a matter between me and my client. But I'm happy to discuss it if you'd like to file a motion to compel. I'm sure the judge would be fascinated to hear why Crane Consolidated is so interested in my personal finances."
Diana's smile tightened. "This deposition is about Mr. Blackwood's claims, not your billing."
"Then let's return to those claims." Elena stood, gathering her notes. "My client has answered your questions for two hours. If you have substantive inquiries about the evidence tampering, we're happy to address them. If you'd prefer to continue fishing for emotional reactions, I'll be moving to terminate this deposition."
She met Diana's eyes, waiting. The other lawyers exchanged glances. The court reporter's fingers hovered over her keyboard.
Finally, Diana set down her pen. "We'll continue this at a later date."
"I'm sure you will." Elena turned to Dominic. "We're done here."
He rose from his chair, his expression unreadable. As they walked toward the door, Diana's voice followed them.
"Mr. Blackwood. One more thing."
Dominic paused but didn't turn.
"Your father's case is closed. Has been for years. But if you keep digging into mine, I promise you—the only thing you'll find is your own grave."
Dominic turned then, slowly. When he looked at Diana Reeves, his face was the cold mask Elena had come to know. But his eyes—his eyes were something else entirely.
"Ms. Reeves," he said, his voice soft, "tell your client that if he wants to threaten me, he should do it himself. Hiding behind lawyers makes him look like the coward he is."
He walked out without waiting for a response. Elena followed, her heart pounding, her hand still tingling where she'd touched his arm.
The elevator descended in silence. Elena stood beside Dominic, watching the numbers tick down, acutely aware of his presence—the controlled anger in his posture, the way his hands were shoved into his pockets, the slight flare of his nostrils as he breathed.
"You handled that well," she said finally.
"I almost broke his lawyer's jaw."
"But you didn't." She looked at him. "You let me stop you."
He turned his head, meeting her gaze. In the harsh elevator light, the shadows under his eyes were stark, his face more gaunt than she'd realized.
"You were right," he said quietly. "She wanted a reaction. I almost gave her one."
"Almost doesn't count."
He was quiet for a moment. Then, so softly she almost missed it: "My father's case. She was right about that, too. I've spent twenty years trying to prove someone killed him. I've spent millions on investigators, lawyers, private detectives. And I've never found anything that stuck."
The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open onto the lobby. Neither of them moved.
"Maybe there's nothing to find," Elena said.
"Or maybe I've been looking in the wrong places." He stepped out of the elevator, then turned back to her. "Crane is behind this. I know it the same way I knew someone killed my father. I can't prove it. Not yet. But I will."
He offered her his hand. She took it, stepping out of the elevator, and for a moment they stood there, hands clasped, the chaos of the lobby swirling around them.
"Together," she said, echoing his words from the glass tower.
A flicker of something—hope, perhaps, or gratitude—crossed his face. "Together."
They walked out into the afternoon light, side by side, leaving Diana Reeves and her threats behind. But Elena knew the warning had been real. Victor Crane had shown his hand, and it wasn't a bluff.
The next move would be theirs. And if they were going to survive, they would have to make it count.