My Mafia Fiancée Thought I Was Still in London — Then I Heard Her Threaten My Widowed Sister and Try to Steal My Dead Mother’s Trust Before Our Wedding
Everyone knew it.
His business partners knew it.
His security team knew it.
And most importantly, Brooke Langley knew it.
That was exactly why Dominic came home before sunrise on Thursday without telling anyone.
The black sedan rolled through the private gates of the Mercer estate in Newport at 4:47 a.m.
No convoy.
No public arrival.
No announcement.
Just Dominic, one driver, and the cold Atlantic wind coming in from the cliffs.
For twenty years, people across New England had learned not to surprise Dominic Mercer.
He controlled shipping companies, construction firms, private clubs, and enough unofficial interests that police, politicians, and businessmen all knew his name.
Some called him a criminal.
Some called him a businessman.
Most called him dangerous.
But nine-year-old Noah simply called him Uncle Dom.
And when Noah called him crying the previous night, nothing else mattered.
“Uncle Dom?”
Dominic had been leaving a private dinner in London.
“What’s wrong, buddy?”
Noah tried to sound brave.
He failed.
“Aunt Brooke says Mom has to leave after the wedding.”
Dominic stopped walking.
“What?”
“She said when she becomes Mrs. Mercer, Mom isn’t allowed to live at the big house anymore.”
Dominic’s face became still.
Noah continued.
“And she said Grandma Catherine’s cottage belongs to her now.”
That was impossible.
Catherine Mercer had died four years earlier.
Before her death, Dominic’s mother placed the cottage and several surrounding acres into a protected family trust.
The beneficiaries were Dominic’s younger sister Natalie and her son Noah.
Nobody could sell it without multiple approvals.
Certainly not Brooke.
Dominic asked quietly:
“Did your mother hear this?”
“No.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because Mom cries when she thinks I’m asleep.”
That sentence ended Dominic’s trip.
He was on a plane forty minutes later.
At 5:12 a.m., Dominic entered his own mansion through the service entrance.
Emma Collins nearly dropped a tray when she saw him.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Dominic raised one finger.
“Quiet.”
Emma lowered her voice.
“You’re supposed to be in London.”
“I know.”
“Does Miss Langley know?”
“No.”
Emma’s expression changed.
Dominic noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Emma.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Miss Langley has been… different while you’ve been away.”
“How different?”
Emma hesitated.
“Toward Mrs. Natalie.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
He took off his coat.
“Who knows I’m here?”
“Only me.”
“Keep it that way.”
Emma nodded.
Dominic moved toward a narrow service corridor beside the pantry.
There was an old door there.
Catherine used to joke that the Mercer house had more hidden spaces than honest conversations.
From behind the door, Dominic could hear the kitchen and breakfast room clearly.
He waited.
Seven minutes later, heels clicked across marble.
Brooke.
She entered dressed as though photographers might appear at any moment.
Cream blouse.
Tailored trousers.
Perfect hair.
A leather folder tucked under her arm.
“Emma.”
“Yes, Miss Langley?”
“Wake Natalie.”
Emma hesitated.
“It’s barely five-thirty.”
“I know what time it is.”
“Mrs. Natalie was up late with Noah.”
Brooke turned slowly.
“Did I ask about Noah?”
Behind the service door, Dominic’s expression hardened.
Emma said carefully:
“No.”
“Then wake her.”
“May I ask why?”
Brooke gave a short laugh.
“You may not.”
Silence.
Then she placed the leather folder on the table.
“We have paperwork to finish before Dominic returns.”
“What paperwork?”
Brooke looked annoyed.
“The kind that prevents deadweight from becoming permanent.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Emma stared at her.
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.”
Brooke opened the folder.
Dominic could see only part of the first page through the narrow crack in the door.
A heading.
MERCER FAMILY TRUST — BENEFICIARY RELEASE AGREEMENT.
His blood went cold.
Brooke continued.
“By Saturday night, I will be Dominic’s wife.”
She smiled.
“And after Saturday, this house will function very differently.”
Emma remained silent.
Brooke leaned closer.
“Natalie has had years to recover from losing her husband.”
Dominic clenched his fist.
Natalie’s husband, Ethan, had died in a boating accident three years earlier.
She had barely survived the grief.
Their mother’s cottage became the one place Noah still felt close to his grandmother.
Brooke continued:
“She needs to understand that Dominic cannot support her forever.”
Emma stared.
“Mr. Mercer doesn’t seem to mind.”
Brooke’s smile disappeared.
“Dominic has a weakness for family.”
Behind the door, Dominic almost smiled.
Brooke had no idea how dangerous that sentence was.
Emma asked:
“And the cottage?”
Brooke tapped the paperwork.
“That problem will be solved today.”
“You can’t sell it.”
“I didn’t say sell.”
“What are you doing?”
Brooke smiled again.
“Making Natalie voluntarily surrender her interest.”
Emma looked at the document.
“Voluntarily?”
Brooke’s expression became cold.
“If she wants to keep a roof over Noah’s head until Saturday, she’ll sign.”
That was when Dominic understood.
This was not arrogance.
It was a plan.
And he had returned just in time to watch Brooke expose herself.
He stayed behind the door.
May you like
Not because he lacked the power to stop her.
Because he needed to know how far she had already gone.
