Submitting to my Ex Uncle-Chapter 237

"I got Amara’s place surrounded, just as you asked," Jim reported on the other end of the line.

Dominic stood still in the closet. One hand rested on the edge of the marble counter, and the other held the phone close to his ear.

"Any movement?" he questioned.

"None so far," Jim replied. "Two of Carlos’s men are still parked three houses down. They’re the same car from last night. One of ours followed them earlier. They’ve been circling, trying to find a blind spot. We’ve got them if they try anything."

Dominic’s jaw flexed once. "No one touches her. Not a single breath goes wrong. If anyone gets near the property—"

"I know, Dominic," Jim cut in lightly, a humorless chuckle under his breath. "I’ve got my orders."

Dominic said nothing for a while. The silence was heavy, and deliberate. He stared at the neat shelves in front of him, the bottles of Celeste’s shampoos and oils, all lined in perfect order.

The faint scent of her lingered in the air, like she had just stepped out.

"How deeply involved is Landon?" he asked finally.

Jim exhaled through his teeth, a sound of disgust. "Deep enough to drown in it. He wants you dead, Dominic. Then his father. Then the whole goddamn chain of command. He’s aiming for the throne."

Dominic didn’t move. His reflection stared back from the mirrored cabinet door—still, cold, with the faintest muscle ticking under his cheek.

He spoke softly, but the tone carried weight. "And Carlos?"

"He’s feeding him information. Not all of it, but enough to stir trouble. We intercepted one of his calls this morning. They’re planning a move before the week ends."

The room fell silent again.

Dominic pressed his thumb against his jaw, thinking. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, precise, lethal. "Keep your eyes on Landon. Every call, every car, and every face that walks in or out of his circle. I want the full patterns."

"Got it."

"And Jim..." Dominic’s tone lowered, quiet enough to make Jim straighten at the other end. "If Carlos makes another move toward Amara or my wife, I want him gone. No warning."

Jim paused. The line went dead silent for a second. Then, he cleared his throat and finally replied. "Understood."

The call ended with a soft click.

Dominic stood still for several seconds. His phone was still in his hand. The quiet of the room pressed against him, but his mind was a battlefield.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and reached for the nearest bottle on the counter.

It was Celeste’s shampoo. It was ridiculous how something so small could steady him. Her presence lived in everything she touched.

It reminded him why he had to stay two steps ahead.

He twisted the cap open, inhaling once. The scent was soft with wild jasmine and vanilla. It made his throat tighten.

He straightened, unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling his sleeves back with deliberate calm. Then he picked up his phone again. His thumb hovered over another name.

Ronan.

He hesitated only a second before pressing the call icon.

It rang once.

Ronan replied immediately. "Dominic."

"You already know," Dominic said, in expectation.

"I do."

A faint sound came through the line, like the scrape of a chair on marble. "Landon’s grown desperate. He thinks aligning with Carlos will shield him."

Dominic’s expression darkened. "It won’t."

"No," Ronan agreed quietly. "It won’t."

"I’ll handle it," Dominic said at last.

"I know you will." Ronan nodded at the other end. "However, leave Landon out of this. He’s my son. I should handle him myself. I’ll sort him. You focus on what matters."

Dominic didn’t answer immediately. The word son hung in the air like an accusation.

"You think letting you handle him keeps anyone safe?" Dominic asked finally. His voice was even.

"You asked for family loyalty once," Ronan said. "Remember? You wanted the men who answered to you to also answer to me. I’ll handle him."

Dominic remembered the night they’d sat across from one another with the map of holdings spread between them, planning exits and entrances like a chessboard. That night Ronan had told him that the family was a tide: you rode it, or you drowned. He had remembered he had chosen to ride.

"I didn’t ask you to shield Landon from consequence," Dominic said. "I asked you, as a family, not to make this worse."

Ronan was quiet for a moment. "He’s still my son, Dominic." He finally spoke.

Dominic’s jaw tightened. He leaned back against the marble counter, the cold seeping through the fabric of his shirt, grounding him. "He’s your son, yes. But he’s also a threat. You can’t afford to separate those truths."

Ronan exhaled, a long, weary sound. "You think I don’t know that?" His voice cracked faintly, not from weakness, but from the kind of pain that came from loving something that kept destroying itself. "You think I don’t wake up every damn morning knowing what he’s capable of? What he’s become?"

Dominic said nothing.

"I raised him," Ronan continued. "I taught him how to lead. I gave him every piece of this empire that he could handle. But the more I gave, the more he wanted. He wants everything, Dominic. Every inch. Every name. And still—" his voice faltered for a heartbeat, "—I can’t look at him and not see the boy who used to follow me around with that ridiculous toy car, asking if he could be like me one day."

Dominic’s fingers drummed once against the counter. For a second, it was the only sound between them. "That boy is gone, Ronan."

"I know," Ronan whispered. "I just keep wishing he wasn’t."

There was a long pause.

Dominic’s tone softened, but only slightly. "You can’t save him anymore. You’ve tried. You’ve done everything a father could. But Landon made his choice. And when men like him make choices, there’s no coming back."

"You always make it sound so simple."

"It is simple," Dominic said. "You just don’t want it to be."

On the other end, Ronan’s breathing shifted. "He’s my blood, Dom. The last thing I have that reminds me of what I built, what I lost... what I ruined. If I let you end him, what does that make me?"

"A man who finally did what was necessary."

Silence fell between them again.

Ronan broke the silence. "You forget something, little brother. I’ve already lost a son once. I won’t bury another. Not by my own command."

Dominic closed his eyes. The line between them had always been drawn with loyalty on one side and reason on the other.

"Then I’ll do it," Dominic said quietly. "If Landon crosses that line, I’ll be the one to stop him."

Ronan’s tone changed instantly. "Don’t you dare."

"I’m not asking for your permission."

"Dominic." Ronan called him with authority. "You think I don’t know how far you’d go for Celeste? For that woman? For your family? I’d do the same. But Landon is my son. And if it comes to blood, it’ll be my hands, not yours."

Dominic stared at the phone in silence.

Finally, he spoke, again. "If he touches Amara or Celeste, I won’t call for orders. I won’t wait for you. You understand me?"

There was no answer. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

"Ronan." Dominic called sternly.

Ronan exhaled slowly. "I understand."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"Every year, it grew darker. And I let it happen because I couldn’t stand to lose him too. Maybe that’s my punishment."

Dominic’s tone lost all hardness for a fleeting second. "You did what you could, Ronan. But love doesn’t excuse betrayal."

"No," Ronan murmured. "But it explains it."

Dominic didn’t respond to that. There was nothing to say.

Ronan’s voice steadied again, the emotion fading back into authority. "Keep your men close. I’ll reach out to you if Landon makes a move. And Dominic..."

"Yeah?"

"Don’t let this consume you. You have something worth losing now."

Dominic’s throat tightened, but his tone stayed controlled. "I know."

The line clicked off.

He stood there for a long time, staring at his own reflection.

Dominic slipped the phone back into his pocket. The scent of jasmine still lingered in the air, soft and haunting. He ran a hand down his face and exhaled slowly.

Whatever came next, he would face it. But if Landon forced his hand, no amount of sentiment would save him.

Not even Ronan’s.