Chapter 6
Celestine let out a strangled gasp, her hands flying to her throat as if she were suffocating. The bright, airy room felt like a polished cage. The vivid sapphire draperies and emerald ferns offered no comfort as the reality of her situation crashed down upon her.
"Stellan, you can't!" she wept, abandoning all pride as she stumbled forward. "My family's businesses rely on those accounts! If you freeze the assets, my father will face federal indictment by Monday! We will be ruined!"
Stellan slowly lowered the phone, slipping it back into his tailored jacket. He looked at her with eyes so devoid of warmth they might as well have been carved from ice. He didn't order his men to touch her. He didn't need to. He was dismantling her life with mere whispers.
"Where is my son?" Stellan asked again, his low voice cutting through her sobs.
"If I tell you, you have to promise not to ruin my family," Celestine bargained, her voice shaking violently. "You have to honor the engagement. We can send the maid away. We can raise the boy as our own! The press will love it!"
Amabel let out a quiet, horrified whimper from the chair, shrinking back against the velvet cushions.
Stellan did not look at Amabel, but he shifted his stance, placing himself more firmly between the maid and the monster she called a sister.
"You attempt to negotiate with me," Stellan said, the slow, controlled pauses making the threat infinitely worse. "You stand in my home, having stolen my blood, and you attempt to dictate terms."
He took one slow step toward Celestine. She scrambled backward, her heels catching on the hem of her ruby gown, until her back hit the solid glass of the window.
"I will not strike you, Celestine," Stellan murmured, keeping his volume low. "I do not raise my hands against women. But I assure you, by the time the sun sets today, you will wish that I had."
He leaned in slightly, his handsome face a mask of terrifying, calculated ruin.
"You will give me the address of the proxy," Stellan stated. "If you do not, I will not only freeze your family's accounts. I will hand the complete portfolio of your father's offshore tax evasion directly to the District Attorney. I will ensure your brothers lose their medical licenses. I will strip the Bellamy name of every cent, every property, and every shred of dignity it possesses in this city. You will spend the rest of your life answering to federal prosecutors from a concrete cell."
Celestine stared into his cold, sharp eyes. She saw no bluff. She saw only the absolute, mechanical certainty of a man who could erase her entire existence with a single phone call.
"The... the Hawthorne Agency," Celestine choked out, her rosy skin turning ash-grey. "A private boutique firm in the Upper East Side. The director is named Evelyn Vance. She holds the placement records. He hasn't been placed yet. He's at their private nursery facility in Connecticut."
Stellan’s posture relaxed infinitesimally. The information was secured.
"Marcus," Stellan called out over his shoulder.
"Yes, Don Wycliffe."
"Take three cars," Stellan ordered. "Go to the Hawthorne Agency. Bring Evelyn Vance to the estate. Then dispatch a heavily armed team to the Connecticut facility. Bring my son home."
May you like
"At once," Marcus nodded, turning to coordinate the men.
Stellan looked back at Celestine. "Take off the ring."
