Chapter 5
The heavy doors clicked shut, plunging the vast, luminous ballroom into a profound, ringing silence. The golden light continued to cascade over the abandoned gold-rimmed porcelain and half-empty crystal wine glasses. The opulent space, designed for celebration, now felt like a gilded interrogation chamber.
Simone backed away from the head table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the sculpted satin of her expensive gown. Her diamond earrings shook as she wept, her carefully constructed facade entirely destroyed.
"Warren, you cannot believe this is worth ending our alliance over," Simone sobbed, her chest heaving. "My family arranged this marriage! We are supposed to unite our syndicates! Are you going to throw all of that away because of a misunderstanding and a frightened maid?"
Warren stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He slowly crouched down, bringing his handsome, angular face level with his son’s.
"Can you tell me exactly what she said to you in the kitchens, Henry?" Warren asked gently, his deep voice softening significantly to comfort the boy.
Henry sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his small hand. He looked at Daphne, who gave him an encouraging, tearful nod, before looking back into his father's cold, but loving, eyes.
"She pushed Daphne against the counter," Henry explained, his voice trembling but remarkably clear. "She said that the Vale family doesn't trust your chefs. She told Daphne that if she didn't eat from your plate first, she would have her thrown in the river. She said servants die first so kings can live."
Simone let out a blood-curdling scream of denial. "He is lying! The maid told him to say that! She has been stealing information and trying to frame me for it!"
Warren rose slowly to his full height. He turned his broad, powerful shoulders toward his fiancée. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to bristle with barely contained violence.
"Would Daphne risk her life in this room to manufacture such a claim?" Warren asked.
"Yes!" Simone shrieked, pointing viciously at the housemaid. "Look at her! She thinks she's better than me just because she plays the innocent victim!"
Warren didn't look at Daphne. He kept his perceptive eyes locked entirely on Simone, dissecting her panic, reading the absolute guilt written plainly across her flushed, rosy skin. He had survived in the criminal underworld by being an unparalleled judge of human character. He knew when someone was lying to him, and he knew the awful, crushing weight of the truth.
"Are you capable of telling the truth, Simone, or must I extract it from you?" Warren asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.
"I love you, Warren!" she wept, falling to her knees on the luxurious rug, the sculpted satin of her gown pooling around her. She clasped her hands together in a begging gesture. "Please, darling! My father received a tip! He said there was going to be an attempt on your life tonight! I didn't want to cancel the gala and look weak! I was just using her as a shield!"
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"Did you believe that weaponizing an innocent woman would secure your place at the head of this empire?" Warren asked.
His voice dropped to a terrifying, gravelly whisper. It was a sound that had preceded the end of many men's lives. Simone stared up at his movie-star handsome face, realizing with absolute, horrifying clarity that there was no escape. The mafia boss had heard enough, and the consequences would be paid in blood.
