Chapter 6
At the far end of the long mahogany table sat Silas Thorne. He was a fifty-year-old man, a highly influential financial associate of the Bellacorte family. He wore an expensive gray tailored suit, a silver tie, and round, wire-rimmed glasses that caught the bright chandelier light. Silas had always played the role of the quiet, dependable accountant, the man who laundered the syndicate’s vast fortunes.
Right now, however, Silas’s fair, rosy face was slick with a cold sweat. As Vincent’s piercing, predatory gaze locked onto him, Silas froze, his hand hovering nervously over his crystal wine glass.
"Silas," Vincent said. The single word sliced through the silent room like a razor.
"Vincent, this is madness," Silas stammered, his American accent wavering. He slowly stood up, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I have no idea why they are looking at me. Adrian and Helena have clearly lost their minds. I am just here to enjoy the dinner."
"Sit down," Vincent commanded. The volume was low, but the sheer, crushing authority behind it forced Silas to immediately drop back into his chair.
Vincent slowly began to walk down the length of the massive dining table. His deeply masculine frame cast a terrifying shadow over the seated guests. He didn't look at the white American capos or the bodyguards; his entire focus was on the sweating accountant.
"Maria," Vincent called out without turning his head. "What did you see?"
From her place on the floor, holding Eli tightly, the twenty-five-year-old housekeeper took a trembling breath. The entire room turned to look at her.
"I... I was cleaning the private study yesterday afternoon, Mr. Bellacorte," Maria said, her voice shaking but gaining strength as she realized Vincent was protecting her. "I thought the room was empty. But Mr. Silas was in there. He had your private safe open."
A collective gasp swept through the elite guests. To open the Boss's private safe was an act of profound, unforgivable treason.
"He was taking photographs of the ledgers," Maria continued, tears spilling over her rosy cheeks. "The ones with the shipping routes and the offshore accounts. When he heard me, he slammed it shut. He told me if I ever said a word, he would have my family killed. And then... then Miss Helena and Mr. Adrian cornered me in the hallway this morning. They said they were going to fix the problem."
"Lies!" Silas shouted, his face flushing a dark, panicked red. He pointed a trembling finger at the maid. "She is a filthy liar! She is trying to extort me!"
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"My son... does not lie," Vincent murmured, stopping directly across from Silas. "And my son... refused to say she hurt him. Which means... she is the only one in this room... telling the truth."
Silas’s eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for an escape. He looked at the heavily armed bodyguards standing by the doors. He looked at the broken body of Adrian on the floor. He realized he was completely, hopelessly trapped in the bright, cinematic light of the dining hall.
