Chapter 5
Vivian’s touch felt like ice against Declan's skin, but he did not pull his hand away. His cold, observant eyes remained entirely fixed on Elora, refusing to break the intense, magnetic connection that had instantly re-established itself between them.
"Elora wants your money, darling," Vivian said, her voice smooth and dripping with calculated venom.
After delivering the lie with practiced perfection, Vivian shifted her gaze away from her fiancé. She looked directly at Elora, the faint, dismissive smile vanishing from her lips. In its place was a brief, razor-sharp warning glance—a silent, deadly promise of destruction if the housemaid dared to push the narrative any further.
"Isn't that right, Elora?" Vivian continued, turning her attention back to the room, raising her voice just enough to ensure the surrounding capos could hear her. "You thought you could dress up a child, parade him into a private banquet, and extort the head of this family? It is a shameful, desperate act. You should be disgusted with yourself."
The guests began to murmur again, the tension breaking slightly as they accepted the plausible lie offered by the future bride.
"A shakedown," a man muttered near the back. "She has some nerve trying that on the boss."
"Security should throw her out immediately," another woman agreed, sipping her champagne.
Elora did not flinch. She ignored the whispers of the crowd, ignored the threatening glare of the woman in the satin gown, and maintained absolute, unwavering eye contact with Declan. Her movie-star beautiful face was pale, but her expressive brows were set with fierce, maternal determination. Moisture gathered rapidly along her lower eyelids, the tears catching the warm, golden highlights of the chandeliers, but she refused to let them fall.
"Do you believe I would allow a common grifter to stand at my table?" Declan asked, his voice directed entirely at Vivian, though he still did not look at her. The measured pause before his next question was terrifying. "Do you think I am blind to the face of my own blood?"
Vivian’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Declan, be reasonable. She is a maid. She is manipulating your emotions because she knows you wanted a family. Please, let security handle this."
"Have I ever required security to handle my personal affairs?" Declan inquired, his jaw tightening, the extremely short stubble on his face casting sharp shadows in the clear lighting.
He slowly pulled his hand out from under Vivian's grasp. The heavy family signet ring scraped faintly against the polished walnut table.
"Are you going to answer my question, Elora?" Declan asked, his deep voice softening almost imperceptibly, the coldness in his eyes melting into a desperate, raw plea. "Is he mine?"
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Elora took a deep, shuddering breath. The silence of the room pressed in on her, but the only thing she saw was the man who had broken her heart by ignoring her for years.
"Yes," Elora said, her voice staying incredibly quiet, yet ringing out clear and absolute across the banquet hall.
