Chapter 3
The tension in the bright, luminous air of the grand foyer was so thick it felt tangible. The cascading crystal chandeliers highlighted the sudden, suffocating silence that was beginning to ripple through the immediate vicinity.
Elise did not look at the furious fiancée standing just inches away, nor did she look at the towering mafia boss approaching from the center of the room. She turned the master key completely and carefully pulled open the heavy, carved mahogany door of the wardrobe.
The darkness inside the antique furniture was absolute, broken only by the warm golden light spilling in from the salon.
Sitting on the wardrobe’s low interior shelf was six-year-old Evan Vale. The little boy was dressed impeccably in a cream Christmas sweater, his small knees pulled up to his chest. He was clutching a small stuffed reindeer with a desperate, white-knuckled grip. His fair, rosy cheeks were stained with dried tears, and his breath hitched in tiny, silent sobs. He had been trapped in the suffocating darkness for over an hour.
Evan blinked against the sudden, bright light. He did not cry out for his father, nor did he immediately reach for the gentle maid who had opened the door. Instead, driven by a deep, ingrained fear that broke Elise's heart into a thousand irreparable pieces, Evan looked hopefully up at Daphne.
He sought the approval of the woman who had tormented him, terrified of the consequences if he failed her twisted test.
"Auntie, did I win hide-and-seek?" Evan asked.
His young, innocent American accent rang clearly across the polished marble floor. The words dropped into the room like a live explosive charge. The sheer cruelty of the situation was unbearable. Daphne had disguised a brutal, terrifying punishment as a secret Christmas game, forcing a six-year-old child to suffer in absolute silence while she drank champagne fifty feet away.
The ambient noise of the crowded Christmas reception died instantly. The clinking of fine porcelain ceased. One by one, every single dinner guest stopped eating and speaking. Fifty of the most dangerous men and women in the city turned their heads, all staring toward the mahogany wardrobe.
Nathan Vale stopped directly beside the open wardrobe. He did not look at his son, nor did he look at his fiancée. He turned his broad shoulders, casting a formidable shadow over the evergreen garlands, and looked directly at Elise.
The artistic negative-space tattoos on his hands flexed as he gripped the edge of the open mahogany door. The tension in his broad shoulders coiled like a steel spring. The evening was no longer a celebration; it was a tribunal, and the apex predator of the city had just recognized a threat within his own walls.
"Elise," Nathan said.
His voice was deep, slow, and incredibly controlled. He allowed a terrifying, deliberate pause to stretch out, shaking the very foundation of the room, before he finished the thought.
May you like
"Who locked him in?"
The question hung in the bright, golden air, demanding an answer that would dictate the survival of everyone standing near the salon entrance. The entire syndicate was staring at the housemaid. Capos shifted uncomfortably on the burgundy velvet sofas. No one dared to breathe too loudly. The air grew freezing cold despite the warmth of the ivory candles.
