Chapter 7 - The Ghost In My Father’s Medical Records And The Truth Behind Dominic’s Empire
The safehouse was a secluded glass-and-stone villa perched high above Lake Geneva, hidden behind dense pine forests and protected by perimeter motion sensors and thermal cameras.
Dawn broke over the snow-capped Alps, casting a pale rose-gold glow across the living room where Dominic and I sat surrounded by encrypted satellite drives, black-ops military files, and half-drained coffee mugs.
I had successfully breached the encrypted drive we recovered from Mikhail’s fallen lieutenant on the tarmac. As the lines of green code unspooled across my laptop screen, my breath hitched in my throat.
"What is it?" Dominic asked, walking over from the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding two fresh mugs of black coffee.
"It’s my father," I whispered, my voice trembling with shock.
Dominic set the mugs down instantly, leaning over my shoulder. "What do you mean? Your father died of pancreatic cancer in a New York clinic."
"Look at the clinical trial records, Dominic," I said, pointing at the declassified pharmaceutical manifests on the screen. "My father was the lead research chemist for BioVance Laboratories in 2019. He discovered a synthetic chemical compound that could neutralize radiation poisoning from dirty bombs. The Volkov syndicate wanted the patent to sell on the black market to rogue states."
My fingers flew across the keyboard, unlocking hidden medical autopsy reports that had been suppressed by corrupt officials.
"They didn't just let him get sick," I choked out, tears of burning rage filling my eyes. "They poisoned him with low-grade thallium over eighteen months to force him to sign over the research. When he refused, they drove our family into financial ruin through predatory medical debt, knowing I would have to sell everything we owned to keep him alive."
Dominic went completely still.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop below freezing. The dark veins on Dominic’s neck bulged, and his knuckles turned pure white as he gripped the edge of the mahogany table.
"Victor and Mikhail didn't just cross my business lines," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a register of sheer, unadulterated biblical fury. "They murdered your father."
"And look who funded the dummy corporation that bought the patent after he died," I whispered, pointing to the final page of the transaction log.
The parent holding company was registered under the name Pierce Maritime Global—Subsidiary 9.
I slowly pulled back from the desk, turning to look at Dominic with wide, horrified eyes. "Dominic... your company bought my father’s stolen patent."
Dominic looked at the screen, and for the first time since I had met him, I saw genuine horror in his dark eyes.
"No," Dominic said fiercely, dropping to one knee beside my chair and grabbing both of my hands in his. "Elena, listen to me. Look at the date of that purchase. March 2021. That was three months before I launched a hostile takeover of Pierce Global and executed my uncle, Arthur Pierce, for running human trafficking and illegal chemical routes behind my back."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his personal cryptographic key, and slotted it into my laptop.
"Run the transaction authorization code through my private ledger," Dominic urged, his voice desperate for me to see the truth. "See who signed off on that purchase."
My trembling fingers typed the command.
The system decrypted the internal memo. The signature on the patent transfer wasn't Dominic’s—it was Arthur Pierce and Yuri Volkov.
Beneath it was an internal assassination order signed by Arthur Pierce: Kill Dominic Pierce if he discovers the BioVance chemical files.
"My uncle tried to kill me to protect that exact patent," Dominic said, his eyes burning into mine with absolute sincerity. "I spent the last two years hunting down every single piece of filth associated with Arthur’s old network. I thought I had burned it all to the ground. I had no idea your father was the one they destroyed to get it."
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Dominic reached up, his rough, calloused thumb gently wiping away a tear that had escaped down my cheek.
"I swear to you on my life, Elena," Dominic whispered, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "I will not rest until every single man who had a hand in your father’s death is buried six feet beneath the earth. Your debt is paid. Your father’s name will be cleared. And Victor Volkov’s empire will burn to ashes."
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