Chapter 5
The silence in the grand dining room was a physical weight, pressing down on the cream damask linens and the low arrangements of white roses. The flickering reflections of the tall ivory candles danced across Camille’s pale, sculpted features. She opened her mouth to speak, to spin another elegant lie, but her throat constricted under the absolute, terrifying pressure of Dorian’s unwavering gaze.
"Are you struggling to find the appropriate words, Camille?" Dorian asked, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that commanded the vast space.
"Dorian, please," Camille stammered, the confidence bleeding out of her American accent. She glanced nervously at the surrounding guests, whose fair, rosy faces were masks of stunned anticipation. "This is highly inappropriate. We can discuss this in private."
"Is my daughter's suffering a private matter, or a public spectacle you orchestrated for your own comfort?" Dorian asked, his measured pauses acting like hammer blows to her fragile composure.
Camille’s hands gripped the edge of the polished mahogany table, the engagement ring biting into her skin. "I was only trying to ensure tonight was perfect for us! You spend so much time looking at her, thinking of her! I wanted one evening where we were the focus, without the ghost of your past sitting at the table!"
"Did you believe that erasing my child would endear you to me?" Dorian asked, his cold eyes narrowing into predatory slits.
Cora stood quietly beside Maisie, her heart aching for the little girl who was listening to the cruel exchange. She gently placed a hand on Maisie’s shoulder, a silent promise of comfort. The sophisticated black maid dress felt like armor as she held her ground against the tension radiating through the room.
"I didn't erase her!" Camille shrieked, her poise completely shattered. "I just told her to stay with the help! It's where she belongs if she can't behave properly at a high-society function!"
A collective gasp echoed from the elite guests.
Dorian did not flinch. He slowly straightened his posture, his powerful shoulders squared in his dark tailored suit. He looked around the room, making brief, deliberate eye contact with several of the most powerful syndicate leaders sitting at the tables.
"Have you all finished your meals?" Dorian asked the room at large.
The guests hastily placed their silver cutlery down, nodding in frantic, terrified unison.
"Then would you kindly see yourselves out of my home?" Dorian asked.
It was phrased as a question, but everyone understood the lethal command beneath it. Chairs scraped loudly against the thick patterned rugs as thirty guests scrambled to their feet. They did not linger. They did not offer polite farewells. They flooded out of the carved walnut doors, eager to escape the blast radius of the mafia boss's wrath.
Within ninety seconds, the dining room was completely empty, save for Dorian, Camille, Cora, and Maisie.
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"Dorian, what are you doing?" Camille demanded, her voice shrill with panic as she watched her carefully planned charity dinner dissolve into chaos. "My father will be furious! You are humiliating our family!"
"Do you think your father's fury rivals mine?" Dorian asked quietly, turning his gaze back to her.
