Chapter 10
The two enforcers loomed over Estelle, their massive shadows swallowing her entirely. One of them reached down, gripping her unbroken arm with bruising force and hauling her roughly to her feet. The sculpted satin of her evening gown caught on the edge of the fireplace, tearing loudly in the quiet study. Estelle fought like a trapped animal, kicking her expensive heels against their shins, but her efforts were utterly useless against the hardened men of the Crowe syndicate.
“No! Please! I’ll disappear! I’ll leave the country!” Estelle shrieked, her voice echoing off the mahogany bookshelves, her diamond earrings swinging wildly. “Lawrence, please! I beg you! Have mercy!”
Lawrence Crowe stood perfectly still behind his desk. The warm, golden light of the engagement dinner outside felt like a distant memory, replaced entirely by the cold, calculated execution of mafia justice. His high-bridged nose and razor-sharp jaw were set in stone. The intricate tattoos on his hands flexed slightly as he rested them on the polished wood of his desk.
He watched her struggle for a long moment, the deep silence of his observation far more terrifying than any threat. Finally, he spoke, his deep, quiet voice cutting through her hysterical screams effortlessly.
“Has mercy ever been a currency accepted within these walls, Estelle?”
She sobbed uncontrollably, her head hanging in absolute defeat as the men restrained her. “I didn't want to die! I just wanted to be your wife!”
“And did my actual wife wish to die on the floor of her own bedroom while you watched her choke on her own blood?” Lawrence asked, his tone dropping an octave, carrying the full weight of a widow’s grief and a boss’s wrath. “Do you believe your tears are a fair trade for the mother you stole from a seven-year-old boy?”
Estelle couldn't answer. She simply wept, her body going limp in the arms of the enforcers, the reality of her impending death paralyzing her vocal cords.
Lawrence gave a microscopic nod to his men.
“Will you take this garbage down to the soundproof basement? Will you ensure she has plenty of time to reflect on her actions before the incinerator is turned on?”
The men nodded silently. They began to drag Estelle Voss toward the hidden door behind the bookcases, her ruined gown trailing pathetically behind her. As the secret door swung open, revealing the dark, concrete stairwell leading into the depths of the mansion, Estelle let out one final, bloodcurdling scream. The heavy door slammed shut, cutting the sound off entirely.
The study was suddenly very quiet. The air smelled strongly of fear and expensive scotch.
Lawrence stood alone in the dim light. He had avenged his wife. He had broken his son’s terrifying silence. He had eradicated the rot from inside his own home. He walked over to the leather sofa where Hugo had been sitting, staring down at the small impression left by his son on the cushions. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold pocket watch, checking the time. The night was still young.
Suddenly, a sharp, heavy knock echoed against the main oak doors of the study.
Lawrence did not move. He kept his cold, observant eyes locked on the heavy wood, his powerful shoulders squaring defensively. The engagement party had been cleared out. His men were occupied in the basement. Cleo and Hugo were safely locked upstairs. No one was supposed to be in the hallway.
May you like
He slowly reached inside his tailored dark suit, his tattooed fingers wrapping around the cold steel handle of a suppressed pistol holstered beneath his arm.
“Shall we see who wishes to interrupt my mourning, or will you invite yourself in before I shoot through the wood?”
