Chapter 9
Vincent and another massive security guard in dark suits entered the room. They marched forward without a word, hauling Sabrina roughly to her feet. She shrieked, thrashing wildly against their iron grip, but they were unyielding.
"You will regret this, Ronan!" she screamed as they dragged her backward toward the doors. "You will all burn for this!"
"Will you convey my deepest regards to your father when I send him the pieces of his syndicate?" Ronan asked quietly, watching the doors slam shut.
The profound, ringing silence of the grand drawing room settled heavily over the remaining three figures. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned plush toys and wrapped presents. The opulent space, designed for celebration, now felt entirely different—it was a war room.
Ronan 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 Sabrina’s father inevitable, but the immediate, toxic sickness within his home had been surgically removed. Now, he had to secure his daughter and the woman who had suffered to protect them.
He turned his body, pivoting seamlessly on the polished marble floors, and focused his entire attention back on Elora and Mia.
Elora was still kneeling on the floor, her hands trembling as she smoothed her rumpled white apron. Her beautiful features were pale, her eyes still puffy and red from her earlier tears, and her disheveled hair fell loosely around her face. She kept a protective arm wrapped around Mia, who was still holding the teddy bear with the prosthetic bump attached to it.
Ronan crouched down, his tailored suit shifting, and looked his daughter in the eye.
"Are you unharmed, Mia?" Ronan asked, his deep voice softening significantly, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Mia looked at the towering mafia boss, her innocent eyes wide. "I'm okay, Daddy. Did Auntie Sabrina have to go home?"
"She did, sweetheart," Ronan murmured, his thumb gently brushing his daughter's cheek. "You are a very brave girl. You helped us find the truth."
He gently took the teddy bear and the silicone prosthetic from Mia's hands, setting them aside on the low worktable. He then stood back up and shifted his gaze to Elora.
The beautiful housemaid was watching him, her exhausted eyes drawn together in quiet empathy. She had endured hours of psychological and physical torment simply because she had uncovered a lie that threatened his empire. The fierce, gentle loyalty she had displayed was a rare, precious commodity in Ronan's dark, violent world.
"Are you injured, Elora?" Ronan asked softly, stepping closer to her, his imposing frame casting a protective shadow over her trembling figure.
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"No, Mr. Vale," Elora answered gently, slowly standing up, her graceful posture returning despite her disheveled state. "I am perfectly fine."
"You are not fine, and you are no longer a maid in this house," Ronan stated, his voice a low, gravelly command laced with profound affection. "From this moment forward, you answer to no one but me. You will move into the secure wing tonight with Mia."
