Chapter 7
The medium wide shot recaptured the immediate, terrifying fallout of Sabine’s lies. The bright, airy colors of the dining hall felt suddenly charged with an explosive, high-voltage tension. The clean whites of the table linens and the polished highlights of the silver cutlery shimmered beneath the warm golden light, a stark contrast to the dark reality of the confrontation.
Caleb moved.
He did not rush, nor did he display any outward sign of explosive anger. He simply rose from his champagne velvet chair with a fluid, terrifying masculine grace. His broad, powerful shoulders shifted beneath the tailored dark three-piece suit. In one deliberate, protective motion, Caleb stepped sideways, moving away from his own place setting.
He placed his towering frame entirely between Sabine and the pair consisting of little Miles and Iris. He acted as an impenetrable physical wall, shielding his heir and the housemaid from the venomous woman across the table.
Caleb reached out with his heavily tattooed hand. The refined artistic ink flexed smoothly as he rested his palm gently on the high back of Miles’s velvet chair. It was a grounding, possessive gesture, anchoring the terrified boy to the room.
He slowly turned his head. The loose strands of wavy hair falling over his forehead cast no shadows, but the sheer gravity of his presence seemed to suffocate the air. He bypassed Sabine entirely and locked his cold, perceptive gaze back onto the housemaid.
Iris met Caleb’s eyes. The sheer, deeply masculine power he projected was overwhelming, but beneath the cold exterior, she recognized a fierce, unyielding demand for the truth.
"I am asking you again, Iris," Caleb said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that carried effortlessly across the silent room. "Why isn't he eating?"
Iris felt the heavy, terrifying weight of the entire syndicate pressing down upon her. She was entirely exposed beneath the golden glow of the cascading chandeliers. Her inner brows lifted slightly, an expression of profound vulnerability and quiet agony.
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If she spoke the truth, Sabine would undoubtedly try to have her killed. But looking into Caleb Bennett's eyes, and feeling the small, trembling shoulder of the little boy brushing against her black uniform, Iris knew that lying was impossible. Her protective instincts overrode her survival instincts.
Tears gathered rapidly along Iris’s lower eyelids, shining in the golden candlelight. Her chest heaved beneath the crisp white collar of her maid dress as she drew a shaky breath, preparing to shatter the empire.
