Chapter 4
The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to bathe the room in their bright, airy light, but the engagement dinner had fundamentally shattered. The guests remained paralyzed in their velvet dining chairs, watching the confrontation unfold with breathless terror. They were seasoned politicians and syndicate lieutenants, but none of them dared to intervene in a dispute of this magnitude.
Vivienne stared up at Sebastian, her fair, rosy skin drained of all color, leaving her looking sickly and translucent. She gripped the fabric of her elegant satin evening gown, her hands shaking violently. She opened her mouth to speak, to scream a denial, to call the child a liar, but her vocal cords were paralyzed by the sheer, overwhelming terror radiating from the man standing opposite her.
"Are you struggling to find a suitable explanation for my son's terror, Vivienne?" Sebastian finally asked.
His deep, low, measured voice remained completely level. The controlled pause between his words was a calculated instrument of psychological torture. He did not step toward her, but the sheer gravity of his presence pressed her against the wall.
"Sebastian, darling, please," Vivienne gasped, her American accent pitching high and breathless with panic. "He is just a child! He misunderstood! He was misbehaving all week, running around the estate and refusing his tutors! I was just trying to establish some discipline! I told him you would be angry if he didn't behave!"
"Does establishing discipline require telling a five-year-old boy that his father is a murderer who targets women in his own home?" Sebastian inquired, his perceptive eyes narrowing into cold slits.
"The maid put him up to it!" Vivienne cried, tears of sheer desperation welling in her eyes. She pointed a shaking, diamond-adorned finger at Elena. "She wants to ruin our evening! She wants to take my place! She let him call her 'Mommy'! You cannot believe a servant over your future wife!"
Elena held her ground, her elegant posture unwavering despite the terror hammering in her chest. She kept her fingers resting lightly in Sebastian's palm, the physical connection a lifeline in the chaos of the room. She instinctively leaned slightly closer to Owen, shielding him from the socialite's venomous panic.
"Would my son fabricate a nightmare to destroy the foundation of our alliance?" Sebastian asked, his voice echoing coldly off the carved marble walls.
"Yes! He hates me!" Vivienne shrieked, looking frantically around the room at the seated guests, silently begging someone—anyone—to intervene. But the elite crowd sat immobilized, their fair faces pale with shock, utterly unwilling to cross the mafia boss.
Sebastian slowly swept his gaze across the room, taking in the numerous guests sitting frozen at their polished walnut tables.
"Have you all located the exits, or do my men need to assist you?" Sebastian asked the room at large.
It was phrased as a question, but the command hidden within it was unmistakable and absolute. Chairs scraped violently against the cream marble floors as the guests practically scrambled to their feet. There were no polite farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in evening gowns fled the bright, elegant room with frantic urgency, eager to escape the blast radius of Sebastian Crowne’s wrath.
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Within ninety seconds, the expansive dining hall was completely empty, save for Sebastian, Vivienne, Elena, and Owen. The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, sealing the room and locking Vivienne inside with her greatest nightmare.
"Did you truly believe you could run a psychological torture operation against my bloodline and remain standing at my table?" Sebastian asked, turning his terrifying focus entirely back to the woman in the satin gown.
