Chapter 6
The heavy doors clicked shut, plunging the vast, luminous dining hall into a profound, ringing silence. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned gold-rimmed porcelain and half-empty crystal wine glasses.
Elliot stood silently for a moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, controlled breath. The betrayal was absolute, the upcoming syndicate war with Viviana’s father inevitable, but the immediate, toxic sickness within his home had been surgically removed.
He turned his body, his polished leather shoes pivoting seamlessly on the thick rug, and walked toward the two figures remaining by the hidden doorway.
Cora had removed her white apron and wrapped it gently around Helena's trembling shoulders. The housemaid’s softly oval face was etched with deep, maternal concern as she supported the frail woman’s weight.
Elliot stopped beside them, his imposing, masculine frame casting a protective shadow over the housemaid and his wife. He reached out with his tattooed hand, his fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before gently cupping Helena's pale, exhausted cheek.
"Are you in pain, my love?" Elliot asked, his deep voice cracking for the first time, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Helena leaned into his palm, a fresh wave of tears slipping down her face. "I'm just so tired, Elliot. So cold."
"Will you allow me to carry you upstairs?" Elliot asked softly.
Helena nodded. Elliot slid one powerful arm behind her knees and the other around her back, lifting her frail form effortlessly against his chest. He turned his cold, perceptive eyes toward Cora.
The housemaid was watching him, her expressive brows drawn together in quiet empathy. She had risked her job, her physical safety, and her life by opening that panel and standing against the fiancée of a mafia boss. The loyalty and raw courage she had displayed was a rare, precious commodity in Elliot's dark, violent world.
"Are you injured, Cora?" Elliot asked, his gaze scanning her delicate cheekbones and fair skin.
"No, Mr. Crowne," Cora answered softly, her elegant posture unwavering. "I am perfectly fine."
"Will you accompany us to the master suite and remain there until the doctor arrives?" Elliot asked, holding her gaze with an intensity that sent a sudden, warm flutter through Cora’s chest.
"Yes, Mr. Crowne," Cora replied, her rosy cheeks flushing slightly under his intense focus.
May you like
Elliot turned and carried his wife out of the luminous dining room. The impending war with the Shaw syndicate loomed over him like a dark storm cloud, but as he led the two women through the quiet, heavily guarded corridors of the massive estate, he knew his house finally felt like a home again.
"Shall we prepare for what comes next?" Elliot asked the empty air, his jawline clenching with absolute resolve.
