Candice Vane presented her elaborate updo to the housemaid Mira Collins

"Marcus, you cannot believe this is real," Candice sobbed, her chest heaving as she tried to backpedal. "We are supposed to unite our syndicates! You cannot throw all of that away because of a misunderstanding! I will pay her! I will buy her whatever she wants!"

Marcus stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He kept his broad shoulders squarely between his son and the woman who had manipulated them all. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The political affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only survival and absolute retribution.

"Are you prepared to remove the ring from your finger, Candice, or must I cut it from your hand?" Marcus asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.

Candice flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup. She knew the stories of what Marcus Hale did to traitors within his syndicate.

"You can't do this!" Candice choked out, the venom returning as self-preservation took over. "My father is Victor Vane! He commands the entire southern seaboard! He will burn your empire to the ground if you humiliate me like this!"

"Is your father a man who fights battles for foolish, sadistic daughters?" Marcus asked quietly.

"He will kill you!" Candice pleaded, reaching out to grasp the edge of a velvet chair. "I am going to be your wife, Marcus! We signed the contracts! You cannot back out now without causing a massive war!"

"Do you expect me to harbor a monster under my roof to appease a shipping magnate?" Marcus asked.

He didn't wait for her to answer. He reached into his tailored jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a single digit and pressed the phone to his ear. The small artistic tattoo above his collar shifted seamlessly with the movement.

"Vincent," Marcus said into the receiver, his eyes locked on his former fiancée. "Will you come to the ballroom and escort Miss Vane to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately?"

He lowered the phone and looked at the broken socialite one last time.

"Have you finally realized the price of your ambition, Candice?" Marcus asked softly, as the heavy mahogany doors of the ballroom burst open.

Vincent and another massive security guard in dark suits entered the room. They marched forward without a word, hauling Candice roughly to her feet. She shrieked, thrashing wildly against their iron grip, but they were unyielding.