Chapter 10
The confession hung in the bright, vividly colored room like a death sentence. The brilliant, natural light pouring through the windows illuminated every speck of dust dancing in the air, creating a surreal, beautiful atmosphere that completely betrayed the horrific darkness unfolding within the Carter family.
Daniel did not scream. He did not pull the custom firearm resting in his shoulder holster. The profound, deeply masculine power he possessed was entirely focused on absolute control. He looked at Evelyn, lying in the ruins of the plush toys, and made a decision that would alter the hierarchy of the city’s underworld forever.
"Take them," Daniel commanded softly, not taking his eyes off his mother.
The four heavily armed bodyguards stepped forward in perfect unison. Two of them hauled the unconscious, bleeding Victor from the wreckage of the linen trolley, dragging him by his expensive suit jacket across the white carpet. The other two converged on Evelyn. They hauled the screaming, thrashing sixty-four-year-old woman to her feet, her dark-red blouse tearing in their unyielding grip.
"Daniel! You cannot do this!" Evelyn shrieked, kicking wildly as the guards dragged her toward the service door. "I am your mother! I gave you life!"
"Put them in the soundproof holding cells beneath the south wing," Daniel ordered the lead guard, completely ignoring Evelyn’s cries. "No food. No water. No medical attention. They sit in the dark until I am ready for them."
"Yes, Boss," the guard nodded, hauling the hysterical matriarch out of the bright room and down into the dark service corridor. The heavy oak doors slammed shut, locking from the outside, finally plunging the nursery back into a serene, albeit destroyed, silence.
Daniel exhaled a long, steady breath. He turned his back on the wreckage and walked quickly to where Marissa was kneeling beside Clara.
"Marissa," Daniel said, his voice returning to a firm, reassuring tone. "You did well. Your loyalty to my wife will not be forgotten. Call the private medical team. Tell them to bring a stretcher and an IV drip immediately."
"Yes, Mr. Carter. Right away," Marissa said, scrambling to her feet and rushing to the wall-mounted intercom.
Daniel knelt slowly on the carpet, balancing the sleeping newborn securely in one arm. With his free hand, he reached out and gently brushed the filthy, matted hair away from Clara’s face. Her fair, rosy skin was pale, marked with exhaustion and suffering, but as his warm fingers traced her cheek, her eyelashes fluttered.
"Clara," Daniel whispered, leaning in close. "I'm here, sweetheart. I've got you."
Clara’s eyes slowly opened, glassy and unfocused in the bright light. She looked up at his handsome, deeply concerned face. She blinked, her dry lips parting.
"Daniel...?" she rasped, her voice incredibly weak. "They said... they said you left us."
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"They lied," Daniel promised, his dark eyes burning with a fierce, unwavering devotion. "I will never leave you. And I promise you, Clara, the people who hurt you... they have only just begun to pay."
As the distant sound of the medical team rushing down the hallway echoed through the estate, Daniel held his wife and son in the bright, cinematic light, the violent climax of the afternoon giving way to a cold, calculated promise of total retribution.
