Chapter 3 Clause Seven

For three seconds, nobody moved. Then everything happened at once. Dominic Blackwood was across the room before Sienna could blink. The front door slammed open, cold rain blew into the hall, and the first bodyguard, a broad man named Reed, thundered out into the garden with his hand inside his jacket. "Nobody leaves this house," Dominic said, without turning. "Mr. Grant, keep them here." Then he was gone, swallowed by the darkness. Sienna stood perfectly still in the middle of the Langford living room, the contract still clutched in her fist. Behind her, Camille was sobbing into her mother's shoulder. Diane was whispering something sharp and furious. Harold had crawled to the sofa and was staring at the carpet as if he wanted it to swallow him. And Sienna's mind was running very fast. Someone knew he would be here tonight. Someone texted him at the exact moment the figure appeared. Whoever it is wanted him to see them. Why? Fifteen minutes later, the front door opened again. Dominic walked in, rain dripping from his black hair, his jaw hard as stone. Reed followed behind him, breathing heavily. "Gone," Reed said quietly. "Over the back wall. We found footprints, but the rain washed out the rest." "Cameras?" "Dead. All six. Cut from the inside." From the inside. The words dropped into the room like a stone into deep water. Every person in the living room went silent, and nobody dared to look at anybody else. Dominic's gaze slid slowly across the faces: Harold, Diane, Camille, Mr. Grant. Then it settled on Sienna, still holding the folder. "You have not finished reading," he said. "No." "You have ten minutes." Mr. Grant stepped forward in alarm. "Sir, with respect, considering what just happened, it may be safer to..." "Let her read." The lawyer stopped. Dominic sat down in the armchair opposite her, crossed one leg over the other, and waited as if he had all the time in the world. The contract was thirty-one pages long. Sienna read every line. Her father's breathing was loud in the silence. Camille kept sighing dramatically. Diane watched her like a cat watching a bird. Page four. Page five. Dates, payments, penalties. Then she reached page seven, and she stopped. Clause 7. The Wife shall have no contact with any member of her family, including siblings, without the prior written approval of the Husband. She read it once. Twice. A third time. Then she looked up. "Clause seven," she said. "What about it?" Dominic asked. "It says I cannot see my brother without your permission." Camille actually smirked. "Oh, just sign it, Sienna. Do you think anyone in this room is going to feel sorry for you?" "The clause protects the arrangement," Dominic said evenly. "Your family has already shown that it cannot be trusted." "My brother is ten years old," Sienna said. "He is lying in a hospital bed with a sickness that could kill him. He has no one but me. Do you really think I will sign away the right to hold his hand?" "You will be paid. Your brother's treatment will be..." "Strike it out." The room froze. Mr. Grant made a small choking noise. Diane's eyes widened. Even Harold lifted his head. Dominic did not move. "I beg your pardon?" "Strike it out." Sienna's voice trembled, but she did not stop. "I see Noah every single day. No approval, no permission, no one watching, no one reporting back to you. That is my condition. If you refuse, find another wife." "You are in no position to negotiate, Miss Hart." "Then I will walk out of this door, and you can arrest my father in the morning. Prison for him, a hunt for a new bride for you. I have already lost everything else. What exactly can you take?" Silence. It lasted so long that she heard the rain tapping at the windows, the clock in the hall, and her own heart pounding against her ribs. Then something astonishing happened. The corner of Dominic Blackwood's mouth moved. It was not quite a smile. It was far too small for that. But for a single second, the Devil of Wall Street looked at her as if she were the first interesting thing he had seen in years. "Nobody has spoken to me like that," he said slowly, "in eleven years." "Then you are overdue." Mr. Grant looked as if he might faint. Dominic held out his hand. "Pen." Mr. Grant fumbled and handed him one. Dominic took the contract, found page seven, and drew a single hard black line through Clause 7. He initialled the margin, then wrote below it in his sharp, slanted handwriting: Miss Hart may visit her brother daily, without restriction. One security officer will remain outside the door. Not negotiable. He pushed it back across the table. "Your brother's safety is not something I will gamble with," he said. "Whoever was in that garden tonight was not here for me alone." Sienna read the new line twice. It was a compromise, but it was real. She could live with it. She took the pen. Her signature looked small beside his. Sienna Hart. Her hand did not shake. It was only afterwards, when she set the pen down, that she realised she was holding her breath. "It is done," said Mr. Grant, almost in relief. "Is it?" Camille murmured, to no one in particular. Dominic rose to his feet. For a moment, he simply looked at the signed contract, and Sienna could not read his expression at all. "You belong to my name now," he said quietly. "Which means you also belong to my enemies. Remember that." "Is that a warning?" "It is a fact." Before she could answer, the front door opened again. Reed came in alone, rain streaming from his shoulders, and in his hand he held a small black envelope. "Sir," he said. "This was on the front step. It was not there when we arrived." Dominic took the envelope. The paper was thick and expensive. There was no stamp, no address, just two words written across the front in elegant black ink: Mrs. Blackwood. Sienna's stomach dropped. "That is impossible," she whispered. "I signed less than a minute ago." "Yes," Dominic said, very softly. "That is what worries me." He tore the envelope open. A single photograph slid out and landed on the table. It was a hospital window, lit from behind in the dark. Through the glass, small and clear, lay the outline of a child sleeping in a bed. Noah. Sienna's knees nearly gave way. Dominic caught her elbow without looking at her, his eyes still locked on the note folded behind the picture. He unfolded it and read it in silence. Then she saw his face change. All the cold control drained out of it. His jaw tightened, and his fingers closed slowly around the paper. "What does it say?" Sienna's voice cracked. "Dominic. What does it say?" He did not answer. He was staring at the handwriting as if he had seen a ghost. For the first time that night, the Devil of Wall Street looked afraid.