Chapter 1
The crowded evening birthday dinner inside Matthias Rook’s sprawling mansion was an overwhelming display of wealth, power, and unspoken danger. High above the dining hall, cascading crystal chandeliers cast a heavy, warm golden light across the pristine ivory wall panels. Intricate gilded moldings caught the illumination, framing a massive, roaring marble fireplace that dominated the far end of the room. Tall, slender wax candles burned fiercely in ornate silver candelabras, their flickering glow dancing across the sprawling centerpieces of white roses, fine translucent porcelain, and glittering crystal stemware. The polished walnut tables were surrounded by champagne velvet chairs, filled with the city’s most dangerous and elite figures. Every guest, boasting fair, rosy skin illuminated by the ambient light, conversed in low, polite murmurs, creating a steady hum in the luxurious space.
At the head table sat Matthias Rook, the undisputed boss of the city’s most feared syndicate. He was movie-star handsome, possessing powerful shoulders that filled out a flawlessly tailored dark three-piece suit. His face was a landscape of sharp angles, featuring a high-bridged nose, a razor-sharp jawline, and extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble that gave him a rugged yet immaculate appearance. His thick, slightly wavy hair was swept back elegantly. Heavy gold glinted from a signet ring on his finger and a luxury wristwatch peeking out from his cuff. Refined, intricate tattoos crawled across his knuckles and hands, with a small, distinct tattoo visible on his neck. His cold, observant eyes missed nothing as he surveyed his empire.
To his right sat his seven-year-old son, Jamie, dressed impeccably in a formal dinner jacket, a crisp buttoned shirt, and polished shoes. To Matthias’s left stood his mistress, Clarice Voss. She was breathtaking in a sculpted satin evening gown that clung to her curves, her ears dripping with diamond earrings that matched the heavy, ornate bracelet resting on her wrist.
Lorna Hayes, a housemaid of staggering beauty, moved silently behind them. She possessed a softly oval face, expressive brows, and delicate cheekbones. Her dark hair was gathered into a loose, elegant low twist. She wore a fitted black maid dress with a cinched waist, a short A-line skirt, and a pristine white apron, collar, and cuffs.
With polished grace, Lorna stepped forward and placed a silver basket of warm bread rolls beside Jamie’s porcelain plate. The young boy looked up, his pale, rosy skin glowing in the candlelight. With trembling, deliberate fingers, Jamie quickly pulled a pristine white linen napkin from his lap, wrapped a small bread roll inside it, and discreetly slipped it into the pocket of his dinner jacket.
He cast a cautious, terrified glance up toward Clarice. Matthias caught the exchange. He turned his head, looking directly into Lorna’s eyes. When he spoke, his deep, quiet voice carried controlled pauses that commanded instant obedience. Every guest in the room stopped eating. The music faded. The room fell dead silent.
“Lorna, who is Jamie saving that for?”
Clarice immediately stepped into the suffocating silence, meeting Matthias’s cold gaze with a faint, perfectly manufactured, reassuring smile. After speaking, she shot Jamie a brief, venomous warning glance.
“An imaginary friend, darling.”
Lorna did not back down. She held Matthias’s intense gaze, her rosy lips trembling slightly under the weight of the moment. Matthias stood up, rising to his full, imposing height between his mistress and his maid, his powerful presence dwarfing the table.
“A woman behind the pantry wall,” Lorna stated clearly.
Jamie looked up, his eyes locking directly onto Clarice. His small fingers tightened desperately over the pocket containing the bread. Heavy tears gathered along his lower eyelids as he spoke softly, with frightened certainty.
May you like
“You locked Mommy in.”
Matthias froze. He looked briefly down at his weeping son. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted his gaze toward Clarice, followed by a slight, predatory turn of his head. His sharp jaw tightened, the muscles ticking beneath his stubble, as he locked her in a cold, furious stare. The silence in the room stretched to a breaking point.
