Chapter 7
"Guards," Galen commanded, his voice slicing through the heavy silence of the ballroom.
Instantly, six massive white American bodyguards in professional dark suits stepped forward from the shadows. They moved with military precision, their loyalty entirely unquestioned.
"Get this trash out of my house," Galen ordered, not even bothering to look at Ainsley as he spoke. "Drag Nolan to the front gates. Throw him on the street. Ensure Miss Vale follows him out. If either of them attempts to re-enter this estate, shoot them on sight."
"Yes, Boss," the lead bodyguard replied in a crisp American accent.
Two guards hauled Ainsley roughly to her feet by her arms, ignoring her hysterical screams and struggling kicks. Her luxurious bridal rehearsal gown tore further as she was dragged across the hardwood floor.
"Galen, you are making a mistake!" Ainsley wept, her face a mess of ruined makeup and panic. "You need us! You need my father's men!"
"I need nothing from a family of cowards," Galen replied softly, turning his back on her completely.
Across the room, two more guards grabbed the unconscious Nolan by the lapels of his expensive tailored suit. They hauled his dead weight off the floor, his polished leather shoes dragging limply through the scattered sheet music, leaving a faint trail of blood behind him.
The heavy oak doors of the ballroom slammed shut behind them, abruptly cutting off Ainsley’s frantic shrieks.
Galen exhaled slowly. He reached into the pocket of his vest, his large, calloused fingers brushing against the delicate gold chain of the locket. He pulled it out, looking at the small, heart-shaped pendant that held the only remaining photograph of his late wife.
He turned around and knelt down on the polished hardwood floor, bringing himself to eye level with his four-year-old daughter.
Eira was still clutching the torn decorative sash of her pale-pink dress, her blue eyes wide and rimmed with tears.
"Daddy?" Eira whispered, her voice trembling. "Are the bad people gone?"
"They are gone, little bird," Galen murmured gently. The terrifying, intimidating Mafia boss melted away entirely, replaced by a father whose only priority was the safety of his child. "And they will never, ever come back."
He held out the broken locket. "Look what I have."
Eira gasped, reaching her small hands out to take the necklace. "Mommy's necklace! She broke the chain, Daddy."
"I know," Galen said, his sharply defined jawline tightening with residual anger, though he kept his voice incredibly soft. "But chains can be fixed. I will have the jeweler repair it perfectly by tomorrow morning. I promise."
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"Okay," Eira sniffled, wiping her rosy cheeks with the back of her hand. She looked down at her ruined dress. "But my dress is broken too."
"Then we will buy you a hundred new dresses," Galen smiled, a rare, genuine expression that reached his cold eyes. "Now, go with Maria. Daddy has to make some very important phone calls."
