Chapter 2
The heavy silence that fell over that corner of the ballroom was suffocating. The elite guests, accustomed to the brutal realities of syndicate politics, watched with bated breath as Dashiell blatantly challenged the boss in front of the entire family. Emrys remained kneeling on the floorboards, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles ticked beneath his stubble. He did not cry out, but the sharp intake of air betrayed the immense pressure crushing the bones of his right hand.
Coralie’s heart hammered against her ribs. She kept her delicate hands wrapped securely around Emrys’s wrist, offering him the only physical comfort she could without escalating his injury. She looked up at Dashiell, her expressive eyes burning with a sudden, uncharacteristic fury.
Dashiell ignored the maid entirely. He bent forward, grabbing Emrys roughly by the collar of his tailored dark suit.
“Give it to me,” Dashiell demanded sharply, reaching out for the white bridal lace still clutched in Emrys’s left hand.
Emrys refused to open his fingers. He glared up at his older cousin, his deep, measured voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying register.
“Are you prepared to lose that foot when I stand up, Dashiell?”
Dashiell’s expression hardened. To assert his dominance, he pressed the heel of his polished shoe down harder. Emrys winced, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his teeth as the signet ring on his finger bit brutally into his own skin under the immense pressure.
Coralie saw the wince. The fierce, protective instinct that she had harbored for the terrifying mafia boss for years suddenly shattered her restraint.
She let go of Emrys’s wrist and rose to her feet in a single, fluid motion. She stood directly beside Dashiell. The older cousin barely had time to register her movement before Coralie pivoted, throwing her entire body weight behind a single, forceful strike. She drove her elbow viciously into Dashiell’s upper abdomen, perfectly striking the solar plexus.
Dashiell let out a choked, breathless gasp. His eyes bulged as the air was violently forced from his lungs. He released Emrys’s collar instantly and staggered backward, instinctively lifting his foot off Emrys’s hand to catch his balance.
The two bodyguards flanking Dashiell reacted immediately, stepping forward to catch the estate administrator as he doubled over, gasping for air.
Every single conversation in the immediate vicinity stopped dead. The quiet murmurs of the gala evaporated into thin air. The elite guests stared in absolute shock. A housemaid had just physically assaulted a high-ranking member of the Valehurst family.
Coralie did not look at the gasping man or the towering bodyguards. The moment the heavy shoe lifted, she dropped to her knees again. She gently cradled Emrys’s freed right hand, pulling it close to her chest. Her fingers trembled violently against the crisp white fabric of her apron as she carefully inspected the deep, angry red marks crossing his tattooed skin and the knuckles surrounding his signet ring.
She didn't speak. She simply held his hand, her terrified eyes scanning his face to ensure the bones weren't broken. Emrys looked down at her, the cold fury in his eyes softening infinitesimally as he registered what she had just risked for him.
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Then, utilizing his uninjured left hand, Emrys gripped the edge of the loose wooden floor panel that had caught his attention. He lifted it slightly to free the rest of the white bridal fabric.
Suddenly, a pale, trembling woman’s hand reached up through the dark gap in the floorboards and gripped the white veil tightly from underneath.
