“A woman behind the pantry wall.”

Clarice remained huddled on the floor, shivering violently as the reality of her impending execution began to set in. The grand, luxurious life she had ruthlessly carved out for herself was completely obliterated. Her diamond earrings scraped against the broken oak panels as she pushed herself up into a kneeling position, looking up at Matthias with red, swollen eyes.

“I loved you!” Clarice screamed, her voice cracking under the impossible weight of her own lies. “You were going to leave her anyway! I saw the divorce papers on your desk before she disappeared! I just sped up the process! I secured our future!”

Matthias did not move an inch. He looked down at her with a profound, terrifying emptiness in his cold eyes.

“Do you honestly believe I drew up those papers to divorce my wife, rather than to flush out the rats in my organization who were leaking my financial assets? Did you think murder was an appropriate substitute for a legal separation?”

Clarice gasped, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. The divorce papers had been a trap, a piece of bait Matthias had planted to see who in his inner circle would react. She had taken the bait, assuming Helen was falling out of favor, and used it as an excuse to eliminate her rival.

Lorna stepped into the pantry, carrying a heavy wool blanket. She carefully wrapped it around Helen’s frail shoulders, helping the exhausted woman to her feet. “Let’s get you upstairs, Mrs. Rook. We need to call a doctor immediately.”

Helen leaned heavily on the beautiful housemaid, gripping Jamie’s hand tightly. As she walked past Clarice, Helen paused. The emaciated wife looked down at the ruined mistress. There was no pity in Helen’s eyes, only the cold, hardened resolve of a survivor.

Matthias gestured toward the hallway. “Will you ensure my family is guarded by the inner circle detail only, Lorna? Can I trust you to keep them secure until I arrive?”

“With my life, Mr. Rook,” Lorna promised, guiding Helen and Jamie out of the dusty, ruined pantry and away from the impending violence.

Once the heavy kitchen doors swung shut, sealing them away, Matthias returned his full attention to the trembling woman on the floor. He slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, pulling it off and handing it to one of his enforcers. He rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, revealing the extensive, intricate tattoos wrapping around his powerful forearms.

Clarice backed away, crab-walking across the floor until her spine hit the stainless steel base of a refrigerator.

“You can't do this, Matthias,” Clarice babbled desperately, her eyes darting between the armed men. “If you kill me, the police will ask questions! My family will look for me! You need me alive to keep up appearances!”

Matthias reached into his vest pocket, retrieving a pristine white handkerchief to wipe the plaster dust from his signet ring.

“Have you ever known me to leave a mess that could not be cleaned up, Clarice? Do you truly believe the sudden disappearance of a deceitful mistress will disrupt my syndicate for even a single hour?”

Clarice’s breath hitched violently. Realizing that begging for mercy and claiming victimization had failed entirely, a sudden, desperate shift occurred within her. A vicious, feral sneer twisted her beautiful features.

“You think you’re so smart, Matthias? You think you solved the great mystery?” She spat on the floor near his leather shoes. “I didn't forge that heavy iron key! I didn't bypass your state-of-the-art security cameras to get her in there! I am just a woman in a satin dress!”