Chapter 5
The silence that followed was absolute. Bianca turned on her son with sudden, vicious horror, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and shaking him with frantic strength.
“Bastian! Tell me that isn't true! Tell me you didn't leverage our family estate! The manor in Southampton? The townhouses on the Upper East Side?”
“Ma, get off me!” Bastian shoved his mother back, his face contorted in frantic panic. “The broker promised—he guaranteed those shares controlled the deep-water permits!”
“The deep-water permits were transferred to Serena’s personal corporation six months ago,” Alaric said, his tone dry as autumn leaves. “Everything you touched over the past year was paper, Bastian. Illusions fed to a vain boy who thought he was clever enough to rob a king in his own throne room.”
Serena reached up to her left hand. Slowly, deliberately, she twisted the platinum engagement ring and the diamond wedding band off her swollen ring finger. The metal felt cold against her skin. She held them up between two fingers, letting the chandelier light catch the facets of the diamonds.
“Do you remember what you told me when you gave me this?” Serena asked, looking directly into Bastian’s frantic eyes.
Bastian didn’t answer. He could only pant, sweat beading across his forehead, his polished facade completely shattered.
“You told me that as long as this ring was on my finger, no harm would ever cross our threshold,” Serena said. She dropped the rings onto her porcelain plate. They landed with a sharp, hollow clatter. “You brought the harm through the front door, Bastian. You brought it dressed in gold satin.”
Faye stepped back, sobbing openly now. “Please… I didn’t know! He told me Serena was sick! He told me she couldn't carry to term, that she was losing her mind and refusing to sign the divorce papers!”
“Shut up, you stupid cow!” Bianca hissed, turning her fury onto the younger woman. “You opened your legs for an inheritance that just vanished into thin air!”
“Enough,” Serena commanded. The single word echoed off the high ceiling with an authority so terrifyingly reminiscent of Alaric that three capos instinctively straightened their backs.
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Serena slowly stood up from the ornate chair, supporting her lower back with one hand while keeping the other firmly across her belly. She took two steps toward Bastian. He recoiled slightly, cowed by the fury in her gaze.
“The money is gone,” Serena whispered, her voice trembling with restrained rage. “The docks are gone. But that isn't why you're going to pay, Bastian. What did you put in my tea last month?”
