Part 2: He slapped his wife for another woman on their fifth anniversary, and by sunrise she had taken the one thing his power could never bring back.

By Friday morning, Dominic had fired his public relations firm, three corporate attorneys, and the head of marketing.

He didn't care about the board of directors. He didn't care that the Caruso Design stock was in freefall, shedding forty million dollars in market cap every time the opening bell rang.

He hadn't slept in seventy-two hours.

His private investigators had finally found a trace. A burner card had been tapped at an obscure grocery store in Great Barrington, Massachusetts—purchasing whole milk, organic strawberries, dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, and drawing charcoal.

Eli’s favorite snacks. Nora’s preferred brand of sketching charcoal.

Dominic didn't take an entourage. He didn't take Julian. He got into his black Range Rover alone and drove north into the teeth of an early winter blizzard.

The snow was falling in thick, blinding sheets by the time he reached the winding logging roads of the Berkshires. The Range Rover’s four-wheel drive groaned against the unplowed drifts, but Dominic pressed the accelerator, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.

He saw the faint curl of grey smoke rising from the stone chimney among the snow-covered pines.

He parked in the driveway, cutting the engine.

The world was completely silent except for the wind whistling through the hemlocks.

Dominic stepped out into the knee-deep snow, his designer leather boots soaking through immediately. He walked up the wooden porch steps and raised his hand to knock.

Before his knuckles could graze the wood, the front door swung open.

Nora stood there.

She wasn't wearing couture. She was wearing an oversized grey wool sweater, dark jeans, and her hair was tied back in a loose, practical knot. In her right hand, she held a steaming mug of tea.

Her cheek was still marked by the shadow of the bruise, yellow-green now, healing slowly.

"You shouldn't have driven in this weather, Dominic," she said calmly, leaning against the doorframe. "The mountain pass is closing in an hour."

Dominic looked at her, his throat locking up. All the speeches he had prepared on the three-hour drive—the corporate legalities, the shared custody demands, the PR apologies—dissolved into dust.

"Nora," he breathed, his voice cracking. "Let me see Eli."