Chapter 7
The profound, ringing silence of the grand dining room settled heavily over the remaining three figures. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned gold-rimmed porcelain and half-empty crystal wine glasses. The opulent space, designed for celebration, now felt like a war room.
Sebastian 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 Vivienne’s father inevitable, but the immediate, toxic sickness within his home had been surgically removed. Now, he had to secure his son and the woman who had protected him.
He turned his body, his polished leather shoes pivoting seamlessly on the cream marble floors, and walked toward the two figures remaining by the head table.
Elena was kneeling on the floor, holding Owen tightly in her arms. The sophisticated black maid dress contrasted sharply with the boy’s formal shirt and trousers. Owen had buried his face in the crook of Elena’s neck, his small body trembling from the shouting and the sudden violence of Vivienne’s removal. Elena was gently stroking the child's hair, her softly oval face etched with deep, maternal relief.
Sebastian stopped beside them, his imposing, masculine frame casting a protective shadow over the housemaid and his son.
"Are you unharmed, Owen?" Sebastian asked, his deep voice softening significantly, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Owen turned his head, his fair, rosy cheeks stained with fresh tears. He looked at the towering mafia boss, his eyes searching for reassurance. "I'm sorry, Daddy. Are you going to be mad at me?"
"Would I ever be angry with you for telling me the truth about that woman?" Sebastian asked, reaching out to gently cup the boy’s cheek.
Owen sniffled, leaning into his father's large, tattooed hand. "No."
"Are you a brave boy?" Sebastian asked, his thumb brushing away a tear.
"Yes," Owen nodded, his small chin trembling.
Sebastian shifted his gaze to Elena. The beautiful housemaid was watching him, her expressive eyes drawn together in quiet empathy. She had risked her job, her physical safety, and her life by bearing the accusations of a mafia boss's fiancée with quiet dignity to protect his child. The fierce loyalty and unspoken, mutual affection she had displayed was a rare, precious commodity in Sebastian's dark, violent world.
"Are you injured, Elena?" Sebastian asked, his cold, perceptive eyes scanning her delicate features.
"No, Mr. Crowne," Elena answered softly, her elegant posture unwavering even as she knelt on the floor. "I am perfectly fine."
"Will you take Owen up to the secure wing and stay with him until I come for you?" Sebastian asked, holding her gaze with an intensity that sent a sudden, warm flutter through Elena’s chest.
"Yes, Mr. Crowne," Elena replied, her rosy cheeks flushing slightly under his intense focus.
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Sebastian stood up, watching as the beautiful housemaid took his son's hand and led him out of the luminous dining room through a discrete service door. The impending war with the Shaw syndicate loomed over him, but for the first time in weeks, his house finally felt like a home again.
"Shall we prepare for what comes next?" Sebastian asked the empty room, turning to begin his preparations for absolute war.
