Chapter 9
The absolute finality of Gareth’s question echoed cleanly off the carved ivory-paneled walls, sealing Delphina’s fate. The grand, luminous dining hall, bathed in the soft elegant warmth of the cascading crystal chandeliers, felt suddenly like a courtroom where a death sentence had just been handed down.
"She is lying to get rid of me!" Delphina cried, tears of panic and frustration finally spilling over her fair cheeks, ruining her pristine makeup. "And that maid—she put her up to this! They conspired to ruin this dinner to make me look like a monster in front of your friends! They baked that stupid tart just to set me up!"
"Do you believe my mother is a puppet, manipulated by a woman whose only crime is showing her the respect you inherently lack?" Gareth inquired, his perceptive eyes dissecting her false narrative with surgical precision.
"You can't believe them, Gareth!" Delphina insisted, her chest heaving beneath the satin gown. "I am your fiancée! I am the lady of this house! You cannot humiliate me like this over an old woman's delusion!"
"Does the title of fiancée grant you immunity from the consequences of striking my blood?" Gareth asked smoothly.
He didn't wait for her pathetic, scrambling answer. He took a slow, deliberate step toward the center of the table. The refined artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he rested his palms on the polished walnut wood.
"Did you truly believe you could break my mother's bones, gaslight my family, and seamlessly ascend to my side without consequence?" Gareth questioned, his voice carrying a terrifying, unyielding authority.
Delphina opened her mouth, her breath catching audibly in the quiet room. She looked at the towering, deeply masculine Mafia boss, realizing that the formidable intellect she had so arrogantly underestimated had just trapped her perfectly.
"My father will not stand for this insult," Delphina whispered, genuine, unadulterated fear finally bleeding into her eyes as she attempted to leverage her family's political weight.
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"Will your father truly care for an insult when he learns his daughter is responsible for assaulting the matriarch of this syndicate?" Gareth asked softly, tilting his head with dangerous curiosity. "Or will he thank me for returning his defective, cruel daughter before she caused a war he could not possibly win?"
Delphina’s mouth dropped open. The color drained entirely from her lips. She realized she had absolutely no power left in the room. The alliance was dead, severed by her own psychopathic ambition.
