Chapter 7
The physical shift of power in the grand dining room was instantaneous. By kneeling beside the housemaid and the child, wrapping his tattooed hand protectively over the boy's shoulder, Declan Westbrook had made his choice. He had drawn a line in the sand, and he had placed Elora and Asher firmly on his side.
Vivian watched the exchange, her perfectly sculpted satin gown suddenly feeling like a straitjacket. She noticed the protective gesture, the way Declan's massive, powerful frame acted as a shield for the woman she had tried so desperately to erase.
Vivian’s faint, dismissive smile faded completely. The blood drained from her fair face, leaving her looking hollow and terrified in the warm golden light. She realized, with a sickening drop in her stomach, that the meticulously constructed lie she had maintained for years was unraveling in a matter of seconds.
"Did you think I would not investigate such a claim?" Declan asked, his voice directed entirely at the floor, though the threat was universally understood. He looked up, his cold, sharp eyes finding Vivian sitting frozen in her chair. "Where were these letters sent? To whom were they entrusted?"
"Declan, you cannot seriously be entertaining this nonsense," Vivian said, speaking with a restrained, frantic defensiveness. She gripped the edge of the polished walnut table, her knuckles turning white. "She is a servant. She probably mailed them to the wrong address, or made the whole thing up to save face! You cannot trust her!"
"Are you calling the mother of my child a liar?" Declan asked, his voice eerily quiet.
"She is trying to destroy our future!" Vivian cried, her voice pitching higher, echoing off the ivory-paneled walls. "We are getting married! We have an alliance! You cannot throw everything away for a maid and a bastard!"
The word hung in the air, a fatal miscalculation.
Declan slowly stood up. He did not remove his hand from Asher's shoulder, keeping the boy tucked safely against his leg. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to bristle as the muscles in his face tightened.
"Do you believe insulting my blood will secure your position in this family?" Declan asked, his measured words striking like physical blows.
The room was deathly silent. The capos and guests stared at Vivian, recognizing the look of a condemned woman.
"I was protecting you!" Vivian shouted, abandoning her polished, aristocratic manners entirely. She stood up, her diamond earrings shaking violently. "She is nothing compared to what we have! I built this life with you! I secured the families! She would have made you weak!"
"Is keeping my son a secret from me your definition of protection?" Declan inquired, his voice dropping to a lethal, freezing register. "Do you consider stealing four years of my life a favor to my empire?"
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"I did what I had to do!" Vivian screamed, tears of panic and rage spilling over her rosy cheeks.
"Did you intercept her letters, Vivian?" Declan asked, taking a single, deliberate step toward the table, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow in the luminous light. "Did you ensure they never reached my desk?"
