Chapter 3
The grand dining hall hummed with the sophisticated energy of the criminal elite. Sabine Voss held court at the center of the room, a vision of sculpted aristocracy. At thirty-three, Caleb’s fiancée was breathtaking in a sculpted plum satin gown that hugged her curves and pooled elegantly around her feet. Diamond earrings flashed brilliantly against her fair, rosy skin, perfectly matching the massive engagement ring that weighed down her left hand. She possessed elegant manners and a carefully reassuring public smile that never quite reached her calculating eyes.
"The floral arrangements are simply divine, Sabine," a senator’s wife gushed, gesturing toward the towering silver candelabras and white roses. "You have such an exquisite eye for detail. Caleb is a very lucky man."
"You are too kind, Clara," Sabine laughed smoothly, her American accent dripping with practiced, synthetic warmth. "I simply believe that an environment should reflect the status of the people within it. Everything must be perfectly placed, without a single element out of order."
As she spoke, the heavy mahogany doors swung open. Caleb, who had been conversing with a lieutenant near the carved marble fireplace, immediately stopped speaking. He turned his broad shoulders, his cold eyes locking onto the entrance.
Iris stepped into the room, holding the hand of little Miles. The boy looked incredibly small amidst the towering ceilings and massive crystal chandeliers. He kept his chin tucked down, his eyes darting nervously toward Sabine before quickly looking away.
Caleb closed the distance in a few long, predatory strides. He dropped to one knee, entirely disregarding the pristine tailoring of his dark three-piece suit, and looked his son in the eye.
"You look like a proper gentleman tonight, Miles," Caleb said, his deep voice softening by a fraction of a millimeter. "Are you ready to sit with me?"
"Yes, sir," Miles whispered, his lower lip trembling slightly as he glanced at his father.
"Come," Caleb instructed gently, standing up and placing a large, heavily tattooed hand on the boy's shoulder. He guided Miles toward the head of the table.
Sabine’s reassuring smile tightened into a brittle line. She had specifically ordered the staff to keep the boy out of sight for the engagement dinner, viewing the adopted child as a stain on her perfect, aristocratic aesthetic.
"Caleb, darling," Sabine said, stepping forward, her plum satin gown rustling softly. "Is it wise to have the boy at the main table? It is a very long, very adult dinner. Perhaps he would be more comfortable eating in the kitchens with the staff, where he can play freely?"
Caleb stopped. He slowly turned his head, his perceptive eyes locking onto Sabine's flawless face.
"Do you believe my son belongs in the kitchens, Sabine?" Caleb asked, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that caused the nearby guests to suddenly fall silent.
"I only meant for his own comfort, darling," Sabine recovered instantly, her smile widening. "It can be so overwhelming for children with... complicated backgrounds."
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"His background is the Bennett family," Caleb stated, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate. He pulled out the champagne velvet chair directly to his right. "Sit, Miles."
Miles scrambled into the chair, making himself as small as possible. Sabine took the seat directly opposite them, her eyes flashing with a suppressed, venomous fury. She shot Iris, who was standing nearby with a silver tray, a look of pure, unadulterated hatred. The dinner had barely begun, and the battle lines were already drawn.
