Chapter 2
The clatter of polished silverware against gold-rimmed porcelain provided a rhythmic backdrop to the overlapping conversations at the banquet table. Ada kept her puffy, shadowed eyes cast downward, moving seamlessly among the guests. Every step she took felt heavy. The bright, airy lighting of the ballroom offered no place to hide, leaving her entirely exposed to the sharp, calculating eyes of the syndicate.
"Ensure the boss's dessert is served promptly, Ada," the head butler instructed in a hushed whisper as they crossed paths near the kitchen doors. "He specifically requested the traditional holiday spread."
"I will take care of it immediately, sir," Ada replied softly, her American accent carrying a fragile, trembling cadence that she fought desperately to conceal.
She took a silver serving tray holding the dessert plates, her heart hammering violently against her ribs as she approached the head of the table. The proximity to the mafia boss was always intimidating; his sheer physical presence and the cold, observant intelligence in his eyes demanded a terrifying level of respect. But tonight, it wasn't Matthias who terrified her. It was the woman sitting beside him.
Sitting quietly in the velvet chair to Matthias's right was six-year-old Theo Vale. The boy, Matthias's adopted son, was dressed impeccably in a navy suit and a burgundy bow tie. Theo had survived a horrific fire at a local children's home a year ago—a tragedy that had claimed several lives. Ada had been the cook at that orphanage. She had pulled Theo from the flames. When Matthias adopted the boy shortly after, he had hired Ada, recognizing the bond between them.
What Matthias did not know was that Coralie was the one who had ordered the orphanage burned to conceal her embezzlement of syndicate donations. Coralie knew Ada and Theo were aware of her presence that night, and she had spent the last year bullying the maid and threatening the child into absolute silence.
Ada stepped deliberately beside Matthias’s chair, her graceful posture rigid with suppressed anxiety. She leaned forward, carefully placing a gold-rimmed porcelain plate bearing a warm, orange-spiced bread pudding directly in front of the mafia boss.
Matthias paused his conversation with Vincent. He looked down at the dessert. He picked up his silver dessert fork, cut a small piece of the steaming pudding, and placed it in his mouth.
The moment the distinct, complex flavor of the orange spice hit his tongue, Matthias froze. He had tasted this exact recipe only once in his life—during a charitable visit to the children's home just weeks before it burned to the ground.
Matthias stopped chewing. His entire body went completely still. The artistic tattoos on his hand flexed as he gripped the silver fork. He slowly turned his head, his naturally swept-back hair catching the cinematic light, and looked directly at Ada.
The transition in his demeanor was absolute. The polite host vanished, replaced by the calculating, hyper-observant king of the syndicate.
"Ada," Matthias said, his voice deep, slow, and commanding.
May you like
The effect on the room was instantaneous. Every single dinner guest at the long banquet table stopped eating. Forks hovered motionless over fine porcelain plates. Crystal glasses were lowered slowly back to the tables. The polite, affluent conversation died entirely in their throats, replaced by a suffocating, terrified silence. Fifty faces turned toward the head of the table, their fair skin paling as they watched the mafia boss.
"The orphanage pudding?" Matthias asked.
