Chapter 3
The vast dining hall felt cavernous and oppressive without the guests. The only sounds were the crackling of the marble fireplace and the ragged, shallow breathing of Clarice Voss. She paced the length of the head table, her sculpted satin gown rustling aggressively against the floorboards. Her ornate bracelet clinked sharply against the edge of a champagne velvet chair as she gripped it for support.
“She is trying to destroy us, Matthias,” Clarice hissed, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lorna. “Look at her! She cleans our floors and serves our meals, and she thinks she can manipulate her way into your good graces by weaponizing your grief over Helen!”
Lorna did not flinch under the verbal assault. She kept one hand resting gently on Jamie’s shoulder, providing a silent anchor for the terrified boy. Her elegantly gathered low twist remained flawless, her posture radiating a polished dignity that starkly contrasted with Clarice’s unraveling composure.
Matthias kept his broad back turned to Clarice for a long moment. He looked down at Lorna, his cold, observant eyes scanning her beautiful, softly oval face. He studied her expression, searching for any microscopic sign of deception. He found only resolute honesty.
“How exactly did you come to learn of this hidden room, Lorna? Did my son bring this information to you directly?”
“Yes, Mr. Rook,” Lorna answered smoothly, her voice steady despite the terrifying proximity of the mafia boss. “I found him crying in the kitchen pantry an hour ago. He was trying to hoard bread in his pockets. When I asked him why, he confessed that he had been feeding a woman trapped behind the walls for months.”
Clarice let out a dramatic, breathless gasp. “Months? You claim he has been doing this for months, and you only decided to speak up tonight? Matthias, she is a liar! She should be dragged out of this house and thrown onto the street!”
Matthias slowly turned his head, his sharp jaw casting a dark shadow over his collar. The small neck tattoo peeked out ominously from above his white collar.
“Have I ever asked for your input on the management of my household, Clarice? Do you feel you hold the power to dismiss my employees while I am standing in the room?”
Clarice swallowed hard, taking a step back as Matthias’s towering frame shifted toward her. “I am your partner, Matthias. I am going to be your wife. I will not stand by while a maid—”
“Will you close your mouth until I ask you a direct question?” Matthias interrupted, his deep, quiet voice echoing with absolute, freezing authority.
Clarice’s mouth snapped shut. Her rosy skin paled drastically, realizing for the first time that the man she was sharing a bed with was not giving her the benefit of the doubt.
Matthias turned his attention back to the young boy sitting rigidly in his chair. Jamie’s small hands were gripping the edges of the polished walnut table so tightly that his knuckles were stark white. The boy was staring at his plate, terrified of the woman standing just feet away.
Matthias crouched down slowly, his tailored dark suit pulling tight across his powerful shoulders. He brought himself down to eye level with his son.
“Why did you hide this from me for four months, Jamie? Did you believe I could not protect your mother from harm?”
Jamie’s lower lip quivered. He looked past his father’s broad shoulders, his frightened eyes locking onto Clarice’s face. Clarice glared back at the boy, a silent, deadly promise radiating from her expression.
Lorna stepped forward, breaking protocol to physically shield the boy from Clarice’s line of sight.
“He didn't tell you, Mr. Rook, because Miss Voss promised to hurt his mother if he ever uttered a single word of it to you or the guards.”
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Matthias remained perfectly still in his crouched position. He didn't blink. The silence stretched out, thick and suffocating, before he finally spoke, his voice vibrating with lethal intent.
“Is this true, Jamie? Did this woman threaten your mother’s life under my own roof?”
