Chapter 4
The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to bathe the room in their bright, airy light, but the engagement banquet had fundamentally shattered. The guests remained paralyzed in their champagne velvet chairs, watching the confrontation unfold with breathless terror. They were seasoned politicians and syndicate lieutenants, but none of them dared to intervene in a dispute of this magnitude.
Estelle stared up at Cameron, her fair, rosy skin drained of all color, leaving her looking sickly and translucent. She gripped the heavy diamond bracelet, her hand shaking violently against the polished walnut table.
"Are you struggling to find a suitable explanation for my son's memory, Estelle?" Cameron finally asked.
His deep, low voice remained completely level. The slow, controlled pause between his words was a calculated instrument of psychological torture. He did not step toward her, but the sheer gravity of his presence pressed her against the wall. Every sentence sounded measured, cold, and immensely dangerous.
"Cameron, darling, please," Estelle gasped, her American accent pitching high and breathless with panic. "He is just a child! He misunderstood! We were playing a game earlier, a treasure hunt, but I didn't tell him to put it in her pocket! She must have found it and kept it!"
"Does a treasure hunt require my son to act as an unwitting accomplice to theft?" Cameron inquired, his cold, sharp eyes narrowing into lethal slits.
"She put him up to this!" Estelle cried, tears of sheer desperation welling in her eyes. She pointed a shaking, manicured finger at the housemaid. "She wants to ruin our evening! She has been trying to poison him against me since the day I moved in! You cannot believe a servant over your future wife!"
Liora held her ground, her elegant posture unwavering despite the terror hammering in her chest. She instinctively wrapped her hand around the back of Milo's chair, stepping slightly closer to the boy to shield him from the socialite's venomous panic.
"Would my son fabricate a lie to destroy the foundation of our alliance?" Cameron asked, his voice echoing coldly off the ivory-paneled walls.
"Yes! He hates me!" Estelle shrieked, looking frantically around the room at the seated guests, silently begging someone—anyone—to intervene. But the elite crowd sat immobilized, their fair faces pale with shock, utterly unwilling to cross the mafia boss.
Cameron slowly swept his gaze across the room, taking in the numerous guests sitting frozen at their tables.
"Have you all located the exits, or do my men need to assist you?" Cameron asked the room at large.
It was phrased as a question, but the command hidden within it was unmistakable and absolute. Chairs scraped violently against the polished hardwood and marble floors as the guests practically scrambled to their feet. There were no polite farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in evening gowns fled the bright, elegant room with frantic urgency, eager to escape the blast radius of Cameron Ashford’s wrath.
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Within ninety seconds, the expansive dining hall was completely empty, save for Cameron, Estelle, Liora, and Milo. The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, sealing the room and locking Estelle inside with her greatest nightmare.
"Did you truly believe you could run a shadow operation in my own home and remain standing at my table?" Cameron asked, turning his terrifying focus entirely back to the woman in the satin gown.
