Chapter 10
The tension in the luminous dining hall stretched taut, a physical weight that pressed down upon the seated guests. The bright, airy colors of the room felt suddenly stark, exposing the raw, underlying brutality of the situation.
"Get your hands off me!" Delphina screamed as two massive men in tailored dark suits stepped forward from the shadows and grabbed her by the arms. She thrashed wildly, her sculpted satin gown twisting awkwardly around her legs. "You are choosing a servant and a senile old bat over a queen! You are a fool, Gareth!"
"Are empires built by men who allow their mothers to be brutalized in their own homes?" Gareth inquired, entirely unaffected by her venom.
He didn't wait for a response. He slowly turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the silent, paralyzed guests.
"Is this engagement dinner concluded?" Gareth asked the room at large.
The question was rhetorical, a lethal command disguised as an inquiry. The guests immediately understood. Chairs scraped softly against the polished marble floors as the most powerful men and women in the American mafia stood up in unison. They didn't speak. They didn't offer their goodbyes or polite pleasantries. They simply turned and began a swift, silent exodus from the luminous dining hall, eager to escape the blast radius of the Boss's impending wrath.
Within ninety seconds, the massive, opulent room was entirely empty of guests. The only people remaining in the dining hall were Gareth, Anya, Beatrice, Delphina, and a dozen heavily armed, white American security guards standing quietly in the shadows near the carved marble fireplace.
"What are you going to do to me?" Delphina whispered, genuine fear replacing her arrogance as she stared at the men holding her arms.
"Will my men escort you to the lower levels, or will you walk there yourself to await my judgment?" Gareth asked softly, gesturing with a heavily tattooed hand toward the armed guards.
Delphina let out a ragged, humiliated sob as the guards began to drag her toward the heavy double doors. Her furious, terrified screams echoed through the bright, airy room, fading only when the doors slammed shut, plunging the dining hall back into a profound, ringing silence.
Gareth turned his full attention back to the beautiful housemaid and his mother. The cold, terrifying edge of the Mafia boss softened considerably. He looked down at Beatrice, his hand gently squeezing her uninjured shoulder.
"Are you safe now, Mother?" Gareth asked, his deep voice returning to a warm, comforting rumble.
"I am, Gareth. Thank you," Beatrice whispered, a tear of profound relief spilling over her lined cheek.
Gareth then turned his perceptive gaze toward Anya. The housemaid stood quietly, her hands neatly folded over her white apron.
"Do you understand the magnitude of the debt I owe you tonight, Anya?" Gareth asked, looking deeply into her delicate features.
Anya’s fair, rosy cheeks flushed a delicate pink under his intense, perceptive gaze. "I only did what was right, sir. I couldn't let her suffer in silence."
"Is bravery not the rarest commodity in our world?" Gareth questioned, bowing his head slightly in a profound gesture of respect. "Will you assist my mother to her suite, Anya? Will you act as the head of her personal staff from this day forward, answering to no one but me?"
"I would be honored, Mr. Blackwell," Anya promised, a genuine smile breaking across her face.
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Gareth watched them walk toward the residential wing, knowing his home was finally secure. He adjusted his tailored suit jacket, turning his gaze toward the heavy doors where his ex-fiancée had been taken. The war with her family was imminent, but as he stared into the shadows, a single, terrifying question remained.
"Will anyone ever dare to threaten this family again while I draw breath?"
