Chapter 7
Camille flinched violently at the order. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup, her eyes wide with primal terror. She knew the stories of what Mason Vale did to traitors within his syndicate, but declaring immediate war on her father's empire was a level of ruthless aggression she had never anticipated.
"You can't do this!" Camille choked out. "You are condemning your own men to die over a maid!"
"I am condemning your family to die over my child," Mason corrected her smoothly. He lowered the phone and looked at the broken socialite one last time. "Have you finally realized the price of your ambition, Camille?"
The heavy mahogany doors leading to the west wing burst open. Marcus and another massive security guard in dark suits entered the foyer. They marched forward without a word, hauling Camille roughly to her feet. She shrieked, thrashing wildly against their iron grip, but they were unyielding.
"You will regret this, Mason!" she screamed as they dragged her backward toward the subterranean access doors. "You will all burn for this!"
"Will you convey my deepest regards to your father when I send him the pieces of his syndicate?" Mason asked quietly, watching the heavy steel doors slam shut.
The profound, ringing silence of the grand foyer settled heavily over the remaining figures. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned travel bag and the towering Christmas tree. The opulent space, designed for celebration, now felt entirely different—it was a war room.
Mason stood silently for a moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, controlled breath. The betrayal was absolute, the upcoming syndicate war with Camille’s father inevitable, but the immediate, toxic sickness within his home had been surgically removed. Now, he had to secure the buyers, protect Lila's mother, and secure the family standing behind him.
He turned his body, pivoting seamlessly on the polished marble floors, and focused his entire attention back on Lila and Piper.
Lila was leaning heavily against the console table, her hands trembling as she smoothed her rumpled white apron over her small bump. Her beautiful features were pale, her eyes still puffy and red from her earlier tears, and her disheveled hair fell loosely around her face. She kept a protective arm wrapped around Piper, who was leaning against her creased black dress, still clutching the piggy bank.
Mason crouched down, his tailored suit shifting, and looked his daughter in the eye.
"Are you unharmed, Piper?" Mason asked, his deep voice softening significantly, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Piper looked at the towering mafia boss, her innocent eyes wide. "I'm okay, Daddy. Did Auntie Camille have to go to timeout?"
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"She did, sweetheart," Mason murmured, his thumb gently brushing his daughter's cheek. "You are a very brave girl. You helped us find the truth. You saved the baby."
He stood back up and shifted his gaze to Lila.
