Chapter 8
The question was phrased with immaculate politeness, but the command hidden within it was absolute and terrifying.
Chairs scraped violently against the polished marble floors as the fifty guests practically scrambled to their feet. There were no polite farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in expensive evening gowns fled the bright, elegant ballroom with frantic urgency, eager to escape the blast radius of Tristan Vale’s wrath.
Within ninety seconds, the expansive dining hall was completely empty, save for Tristan, Veronica, Audrey, and little Maisie. The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, sealing the room and locking Veronica inside with her greatest nightmare.
"Did you truly believe you could run a psychological torture operation against my bloodline and remain seated at my table?" Tristan asked, turning his terrifying focus entirely back to the woman in the emerald gown.
Veronica backed away from the head table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the luxurious fabric of her dress. Her diamond earrings shook as she wept, her carefully constructed public smile entirely destroyed.
"Tristan, you cannot believe this is real," Veronica sobbed, her chest heaving. "My family arranged this marriage! We are supposed to unite our syndicates! Are you going to throw all of that away because of a misunderstanding?"
Tristan stood immovably in his tailored dark suit. He slowly crouched down, keeping Maisie securely in his arms, and looked at his daughter.
"Can you tell me exactly what happened, Maisie?" Tristan asked gently, his deep voice softening significantly to comfort the girl.
Maisie sniffled, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. She looked at Audrey, who offered a warm, encouraging smile, before looking back into her father's eyes.
"She came to my playroom," Maisie explained, her voice trembling but clear. "She said I was being too loud and that you didn't want me at the party. She brought me downstairs and told me to get in the box to hide from you. She closed the lid and I heard the lock click. It was dark, Daddy. I couldn't breathe good."
Veronica let out a blood-curdling scream of denial. "She is lying! She is a manipulative little brat!"
Tristan rose slowly to his full height. He turned his broad, powerful shoulders toward his fiancée.
"Are you capable of telling the truth, Veronica, or must I extract it from you?" Tristan asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.
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"I love you, Tristan!" she wept, falling to her knees on the marble floor. "Please, darling! My father forced me to do it! He said your daughter would be a distraction! He said the Shaw family needed to be the only focus of your future! I didn't want to hurt her! I just wanted her out of the way for one night!"
"Did you believe that weaponizing the terror of a child would secure your place at the top of this empire?" Tristan asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying, gravelly whisper.
