Chapter 5
Nadine refused to back down. She gripped the fabric of her white apron, her heart blazing with a fierce, protective fire for the family she served. She knew the cost of defying the woman who shared the mafia boss's bed, but looking at the muddy wedding band, she knew she had crossed the point of no return.
Nadine held Callan’s gaze. Her lips trembled slightly, but her voice was thin, clear, and carried a shattering clarity across the silent room.
"Rex found it," Nadine said, gesturing down to the elderly Labrador sitting loyally at her feet. "Under the roses."
A collective, silent gasp seemed to ripple through the velvet dining chairs. The guests stared in unadulterated shock. The implication hung in the air—the beloved wife of the mafia boss had not abandoned him. She was buried in the very gardens they were overlooking through the large estate windows.
Callan’s eyes remained locked on Nadine for a fraction of a second before he followed her glance down toward the dog. His sharp eyes caught the dark, wet earth caked onto Rex's paws.
With a terrifying, predatory calm, Callan rose from his chair. The movement was fluid and absolute. His powerful shoulders dominated the space as he stood up, his tailored dark suit acting as a physical barrier. He placed himself deliberately between Marietta and both Nadine and his son, shielding them from the woman in satin.
"Would a thief bury a gold ring in the mud, Marietta?" Callan asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly whisper.
"Callan, please," Marietta stammered, the faint, reassuring smile completely evaporating from her face. Her fair skin turned the color of ash. "The dog is old! He digs everywhere! He probably found it where Lara dropped it on her way out to the cars! You cannot believe this servant over me!"
"Do I look like a man who believes in coincidences?" Callan inquired, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her side of the table.
"She is manipulating you!" Marietta cried, her voice pitching an octave higher as her panic set in. "She wants to ruin this evening! She is obsessed with your wife's memory!"
Nadine stood her ground, stepping closer to Wyatt, her slender figure shielding the boy. She placed her hands gently on his small, shaking shoulders. The truth was already on the table; it didn't need her protection anymore.
"Are you suggesting my dog is part of a conspiracy against you?" Callan asked, tilting his head slightly, the small neck tattoo shifting against his collar.
"I am suggesting you are letting grief cloud your judgment!" Marietta shrieked, losing her elegant manners entirely.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until it was broken by the smallest voice in the room.
May you like
Wyatt, sitting quietly in his formal dinner jacket, looked directly across the table at Marietta. The seven-year-old boy’s lower lip trembled violently. Tears gathered rapidly along his lower eyelids, catching the golden light of the tall candles. He didn't look angry; he looked profoundly, devastatingly heartbroken and terrified.
"You buried Mommy there," Wyatt said.
