Chapter 4
The bright, airy lighting of the dining hall seemed to sharpen, acting as a high-definition spotlight on the silent tension escalating at the head of the family table. Silas did not move his broad, powerful shoulders. He simply stared at Keira, his cold, perceptive eyes piercing through her sophisticated professional exterior.
He knew his daughter better than anyone in the world. Annie was not a child prone to outbursts or tantrums. Her profound silence was usually matched by a rigid, disciplined stillness. For her to break protocol so violently, grabbing his wrist in front of fifty armed syndicate members, meant the threat was absolute and imminent.
Silas held Keira’s intense, panicked gaze.
“Keira. What frightened Annie?”
His voice was deep, quiet, and impossibly deliberate. The question dropped into the silent, luminous room like a heavy stone into still water. There was a slow, controlled pause placed perfectly after the housemaid's name that demanded absolute submission.
Every single guest at the massive, crowded table stopped eating and speaking. The melodic hum of polite conversations died completely. Men in expensive formal wear and women in satin gowns turned their heads in unison, their fair, rosy faces locking onto the head of the table. The silence was absolute, heavy with the terrifying realization that the apex predator of their world had just halted his own engagement dinner to interrogate a servant.
"Silas, darling, the child is simply overwhelmed," Maribel intervened, her American accent pitching slightly higher as she attempted to manage the situation. "She has been acting strange all evening. Please, let the maid take her to her room before she ruins the service entirely."
Silas did not look at Maribel. He did not blink. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to harden into granite. He kept his arm perfectly still, allowing Annie to maintain her desperate grip on his wrist.
"Am I required to repeat myself, Keira?" Silas asked, his voice dropping into a register of pure, concentrated ice.
Keira froze. She swallowed hard, the muscles in her throat contracting visibly beneath her crisp white collar. She was entirely exposed beneath the bright, golden glow of the cascading chandeliers, trapped between the man who owned the city and the woman who was about to marry him.
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If she spoke the truth, Maribel would undoubtedly try to have her killed. But looking into Silas Cross's eyes, Keira realized that lying to him carried a far more immediate, fatal consequence. She placed her hands gently on the back of Annie's velvet chair, drawing strength from the little girl's bravery.
"Mr. Cross," Keira began, her voice trembling but clear. "Annie saw something. Something she was never meant to see."
