Chapter 7: The Brother in the Room
Thomas Rainer arrived at Dominic's office at ten in the morning.
He was four years younger than Dominic, lighter in build, and had always moved through rooms with the ease of someone who had grown up in the shadow of a larger personality and learned to work around it rather than through it.
He shook hands with the receptionist.
He smiled at the assistant.
He carried a leather portfolio under one arm.
Grace was already inside when he entered the conference room.
He saw her and stopped.
"Grace." His smile adjusted — not disappearing, but recalibrating.
"I didn't know you'd be joining us."
"I asked her to be here," Dominic said from the head of the table.
"Sit down, Thomas."
Thomas sat.
He placed his portfolio on the table and looked between them.
His expression was still pleasant.
Still measured.
"I thought this was about the Harborview easement document," he said.
"It is," Dominic said.
"Among other things."
Thomas opened his portfolio.
"I've reviewed the terms.
I have two small notes on section four, but overall —"
"October third," Dominic said.
Thomas's hand stopped on the page.
"Fells Point," Dominic continued.
"Ninety minutes.
Renata Voss."
The portfolio stayed open.
Thomas didn't look up immediately.
When he did, his expression had shifted — not to guilt, but to something more careful.
More prepared.
"That was a professional meeting," he said.
"Renata reached out about a potential referral.
I've used her firm before."
"You hold a twelve percent silent interest in Delco Terminal Partners," Dominic said.
"Renata Voss represents Delco.
The meeting on October third occurred eleven days before my wife was targeted on a live stream by a woman whose management contact received a tip from Renata's office IP address." He paused.
"Tell me about the referral."
Thomas closed the portfolio.
"You're connecting things that aren't connected."
"Garrett has the security footage from the building."
A beat.
"Footage of me walking into a building isn't —"
"The footage is from inside the building," Dominic said.
"Renata's office has a camera in the reception area.
Standard for a law firm.
The building management provided the footage this morning." He slid a printed still across the table.
"That's you and Renata at her conference table.
The timestamp is October third.
The document on the table is partially visible."
Thomas looked at the photograph.
His jaw tightened.
Grace had been silent until now.
She had sat at the far end of the table with her hands folded and watched Thomas work through his calculations in real time.
Now she spoke.
"The comment account," she said.
"The one that identified me during the live stream.
The one that called me nobody." She kept her voice level.
"It was designed to humiliate me specifically.
Not Dominic.
Me.
My history.
My job.
The diner." She paused.
"The only people who knew that level of detail about my life before Dominic were people Dominic trusted."
Thomas looked at her.
"Grace, I didn't —"
"You told Renata," she said.
"And Renata used it."
"I didn't know she was going to —"
"What did you think she was going to do with it, Thomas?"
He stopped.
The room was quiet.
The harbor was visible through the window behind Dominic — gray water, a pale sky, a single white boat moving slowly toward the bridge.
"I thought she was going to use it to create distance," Thomas said finally.
His voice had changed.
The pleasantness was gone.
What was underneath it was smaller and harder.
"I thought if the right people saw that Dominic's wife was still waiting tables — that she was still using her maiden name, that she'd never been introduced publicly — it would raise questions.
About the marriage.
About his judgment." He looked at Dominic.
"I didn't tell her to go after Grace directly.
I didn't know about Sloane Mercer.
I didn't know about the live stream."
"But you gave her the ammunition," Dominic said.
"I gave her information.
What she did with it —"
"Is on you," Grace said.
Thomas turned to her.
"You handed a weapon to someone you knew would use it," she said.
"You knew Renata's history with Dominic.
You knew she had reason to want to cause damage.
You gave her the most personal information you had access to and you told yourself that what happened next wasn't your responsibility." She held his gaze.
"Sixty-one thousand people watched me get a drink poured on my head.
The comments called me fat.
They called me a nobody.
They said I married up and should be grateful." Her voice didn't waver.
"I heard those comments through the phone speaker while I was standing in the restaurant where I've worked for five years.
In front of my coworkers.
In front of customers I've served for years."
Thomas said nothing.
"You did that," she said.
"Not Renata.
Not Sloane.
You."
A long silence.
Thomas looked at Dominic.
"I'll step back from Delco.
I'll dissolve the interest."
"Yes," Dominic said.
"You will."
"And I'll speak to Renata.
Make sure she —"
"Renata has already been spoken to," Dominic said.
"The archive is down.
The comment is deleted.
Renata's retainer with Delco will not be renewed — I've already had that conversation with their board." He paused.
"What remains is you."
Thomas straightened slightly.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that the Harborview easement document will be handled by Marcus Webb going forward.
It means that your name will be removed from the advisory list for the Baltimore terminal expansion." Dominic's voice was entirely even.
"It means that when I have a family dinner at Christmas, you will not be at the table."
Thomas went very still.
"Dominic —"
"You used my wife," Dominic said.
"You used the things she told me in private.
You used the life she chose — the honest, quiet, dignified life she chose — as a weapon against her." He looked at his brother without anger and without grief.
Just clarity.
"I don't do second opportunities.
You know that."
Thomas looked at Grace one more time.
She met his eyes and said nothing.
He picked up his portfolio.
He stood.
He walked to the door.
At the threshold he stopped.
"I didn't think she'd get hurt," he said.
Not to Dominic.
To Grace.
"I know," Grace said.
"That's the part that makes it worse."
He left.
The door closed.
Dominic sat at the head of the table looking at the harbor.
Grace looked at him.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"No," he said.
"But I will be."
She stood and walked to his end of the table.
She didn't say anything.
She put her hand on his shoulder.
He reached up and covered it with his.
They stayed like that for a moment — the harbor gray and quiet outside, the room still, the portfolio gone, the document unsigned on the table.
Then Dominic's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
His expression shifted — not to alarm, but to something focused and sharp.
"Garrett," he said.
"What is it?"
He turned the screen toward her.
*Sloane Mercer posted again this morning.
New account.
Different platform.
May you like
The archive is back up.
She's calling it Part Two.*
