Amy's delicate brows knitted together, a shadow of unease flickering across her features.

Her piercing gaze locked onto Dominic. "Mr. Whitmore is Alexander's closest friend, yet he's the one revealing all this to me... Should I trust him, or should I question you? What's your real motive here?"

Dominic understood—after their last encounter, her walls were up.

A trace of remorse darkened his expression. "After seeing you at the hospital, I confronted Alexander immediately. He refused to release Samantha, so I thought... perhaps I could help her escape myself."

"I'd just located her when Alexander finally relented. But before I could intervene, she was taken again."

"This time, it wasn't Alexander's doing. I assumed she'd angered someone powerful. I didn't want to burden you with false alarms, so I shared everything I knew."

"Yet you outmaneuvered me and rescued Samantha yourself. I'm sorry. I should've acted sooner."

Amy's stern demeanor softened slightly.

So, just as Samantha had claimed, Dominic had tried to help. She'd misjudged him.

But still...

Amy studied him intently. "You're his confidant. Why betray his trust for me?"

Dominic didn't flinch. A quiet sigh escaped him.

"I can't watch Alexander self-destruct. You're his wife. You share a child. I won't let him make an irreparable mistake."

Amy's frown deepened. "What exactly is he planning?"

After a weighted pause, Dominic exhaled sharply and laid out the entire scheme.

She listened impassively—no outrage, no shock. Her inscrutable expression gave nothing away.

Dominic murmured, "I know you doubt me. Time will prove my honesty. In a month, everything will unfold. Just... brace yourself."

Later, in the privacy of their home, Amy recounted the conversation to Samantha, questioning its validity.

Samantha tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Dominic's reputation is impeccable—everyone praises his integrity. I doubt he'd lie. But..."

"But what?" Amy pressed.

Samantha grimaced. "How does a man like Dominic—refined, principled—end up allied with Alexander, let alone a snake like Nathan?"

"Birds of a feather? Those three are from entirely different worlds."

Amy shrugged. "Childhood bonds. Nathan may be morally bankrupt, but he'd die for his friends."

Samantha scoffed. "Oh, he'd take a bullet for them—then stab them in the back over a woman. Case in point: Victoria. She's a walking disaster, yet he still worships the ground she slithers on. Speaks volumes."

Meanwhile, Dominic returned to his estate and strode directly to his study.

His fingers brushed a concealed lever on the bookshelf. With a whisper of gears, the shelves parted, unveiling a hidden corridor.

He stepped into the gloom.

The secret chamber was icy, shadows devouring its corners. Only the dim glow above the mahogany desk fought the darkness.

Dozens of photographs littered its surface.

Dominic lifted one tenderly, his thumb caressing the image of a woman's face. A shuddering breath escaped him as he pressed his lips to the photo in a reverent kiss.

Had Amy seen it, she'd have recognized herself instantly.

The walls, the desk—every inch was papered with hundreds of photos. All of her. Only her.