Chapter 1
The dining room of the Wolfe mansion was a breathtaking display of luminous, airy elegance. Beneath the magnificent crystal chandeliers, a warm, golden light washed over carved walnut walls and gilded mirrors, creating an atmosphere of soft, elegant warmth entirely free of any yellow or muddy orange tint. Cream roses nestled low between tall ivory candles glowing softly inside crystal hurricane holders, illuminating the faces of the elite white American guests. It was a crowded engagement dinner, a gathering of power and wealth, yet beneath the clinking of gold-rimmed porcelain and silver cutlery, a suffocating tension lay coiled like a snake.
At the head of the long white damask table stood Cassian Wolfe. He was forty-three, a mafia boss whose deeply masculine presence dominated the room. Handsome as a movie star, his powerful shoulders stretched the fabric of a tailored dark three-piece suit. He possessed an angular face with a high-bridged nose and a sharply defined jawline shadowed by extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble. Thick, slightly wavy hair was swept back naturally, a few loose strands falling carelessly over his forehead. His cold, perceptive eyes tracked every movement, analyzing the room with the lethal precision of an apex predator. Refined artistic tattoos decorated his hands and fingers with generous negative space, matching a small, elegant mark on his neck. A family signet ring and a heavy wristwatch gleamed under the chandeliers.
To his left sat Estelle Quinn. At thirty-two, she was striking, her fair, rosy skin glowing against a sculpted silk evening gown. Diamond earrings caught the light, matching the massive engagement ring on her finger. Her smile was a polished, public facade, masking a quietly controlling and ruthless ambition.
Moving gracefully among the ivory upholstered chairs was Ada Monroe. At twenty-seven, the housemaid was beautiful like a movie star, possessing a softly heart-shaped face, expressive brows, and full natural lips. Her hair was gathered into a loose, elegant low bun. She wore a sophisticated black maid dress with a cinched waist, slim fitted silhouette, short A-line skirt, and a crisp white collar, cuffs, and neatly tied apron.
Ada stepped smoothly beside Cassian, carefully placing a heavy silver serving platter before him.
As she straightened her slender figure, a loose strand of hair fell across her cheek. Ada instinctively reached up to brush it away. The movement was brief, but in the bright, clear lighting of the room, it exposed a small, stark medical dressing tucked behind her left ear.
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Cassian’s cold eyes immediately settled on the white bandage.
Ada felt the sudden, terrifying weight of his gaze. Her breath hitched. She quickly lowered her hand, her fair skin flushing slightly as she stepped back, clutching the edge of her white apron.
