In the Hands of Dominic のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 77

The recording studio was quiet—almost sacred in its silence. Thick soundproof walls hugged the room, absorbing every stray noise, while the faint hum of high-end recording equipment gave the space a subtle, ambient buzz. LED strips glowed soft amber along the edges of the ceiling, casting a warm light over sleek consoles, monitors, and a glass-paneled vocal booth beyond.On the artist’s lounge side, a deep velvet couch sat tucked beneath acoustic foam panels shaped like art. The room smelled faintly of cinnamon and cedar—Molly’s signature tea steaming in a ceramic mug beside her.She sat cross-legged on the couch, effortlessly stylish in an oversized graphic tee and studio joggers. Her free hand rested on Andra’s, fingers gently curled around hers. Andra looked out through the soundproof glass toward the booth, then down at their interlaced hands.“He was gentle,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the mics might still be live. “It wasn’t what I expected. No pain, no we

Dominic shook hands with his associates inside his new boardroom, the walls still bare, wires exposed, and paint buckets tucked in corners. The long glass table gleamed beneath the overhead lights, even though the room around it still smelled faintly of plaster and fresh paint.He was glad the meeting was over. One by one, they filed out, murmuring quick goodbyes, their footsteps echoing down the hallway.Outside the boardroom, the entire building buzzed with motion—engineers in hard hats, designers measuring walls, delivery people hauling in furniture and cables. But Dominic’s mind wasn’t there.One of the engineers stayed behind to brief him on progress—logistics, electrical plans, a minor plumbing reroute—but his words washed over Dominic like static. Something was off. The silence at home, the unfinished conversation with Andra... it tugged at his thoughts."Sir, I assure you. Everything will be done well.""I don't fully trust you because you said this office was ready. Just move

Hours later, the entire country was abuzz. A breaking news clip with several variations was trending across every media platform. Phones chimed with notifications. Screens in salons, cafés, and offices glowed with the same footage.Jane stood outside the gate of her father’s house, surrounded by a sea of flashing cameras and muffled murmurs from reporters. Her face was bare, her eyes red-rimmed but determined. She held the mic tightly, as if drawing courage from its weight.“This is an apology to Duke Anderson and his family. This is also an apology to Prime Minister George James and his family. I am sorry for my utterances. It was a prank that went too far. I didn’t mean to say those things. I had no right. Everything was fake. I know nothing of a contract. I hope he can forgive me. I hope everyone can forgive me, but I am prepared to accept responsibility for my actions. I also apologize to my family for all this. Once again, I am sorry.”Her voice trembled as she spoke, but her wor