Chapter 3
The silence in the grand dining hall was absolute and suffocating. The warm golden light cascading from the crystal chandeliers seemed to freeze in the air, highlighting the dust on Miles Hawthorne’s creased shirt and the sheer, unadulterated terror masking Celeste’s face. The elite guests, accustomed to the brutal realities of the mafia underworld, held their breath. No one dared to move a muscle under the crushing weight of Victor’s cold, unwavering stare.
Miles took a ragged breath, stepping fully out of the concealed service room. The twenty-four-year-old brother of the boss swayed slightly, his fair, rosy skin smeared with grime, but his posture remained defiantly alert. He kept his gaze locked on Celeste, his restrained urgency radiating through the opulent room.
Victor finally broke the silence. He did not raise his deep, low voice, but the measured cadence carried effortlessly to the furthest corners of the room. He turned his attention to the hundreds of frozen guests.
"Do you believe this family matter is a theatrical performance arranged for your amusement?" Victor asked, his dark eyes sweeping over the velvet dining chairs. "Will you all leave my home immediately?"
The unspoken threat was perfectly clear. Chairs scraped frantically against the cream marble floors. Men and women scrambled to their feet, abandoning their fine porcelain and half-empty crystal glasses. They rushed toward the massive double doors, eager to escape the impending explosion of Hawthorne violence. Within ninety seconds, the sprawling banquet hall was completely empty, save for Victor, Celeste, Miles, and Eva.
Celeste’s polished smile was entirely gone. Her elegant satin gown rustled as she took a frantic step backward, her diamond earrings shaking.
"Victor, please, you have to listen to me!" Celeste cried, her American accent losing its refined edge. "He must have wandered in there and locked himself in! I had no idea he was trapped!"
Victor slowly turned his broad shoulders fully toward his fiancée. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he adjusted the cuffs of his tailored dark three-piece suit.
"Does a man accidentally lock himself inside a room secured by an exterior sliding bolt?" Victor asked, stepping closer to her. "Did you truly believe I was foolish enough to accept that explanation, Celeste?"
"He is lying!" Celeste shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at Miles. "He has always hated me! He orchestrated this to ruin our engagement!"
"Why would my brother starve himself in a wall just to ruin a dinner party?" Victor asked, his sharp jaw setting into a brutal line.
Eva moved quickly, her sophisticated black maid dress swishing as she rushed to the sideboard. She poured a glass of water from a crystal pitcher and brought it to Miles. Her delicate features were pinched with worry as she offered him the glass. "Here, please drink this," Eva urged softly.
Miles took the glass, his hands shaking, and drank deeply. He looked at Eva with profound gratitude before turning back to his brother.
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"She has been stealing from the family accounts, Victor," Miles said, his voice gaining strength. "I found the ledger transfers three days ago. When I confronted her, she pulled a gun on me and forced me into the service corridor."
Victor’s eyes darkened to pitch. He looked back at Celeste, his neck tattoo shifting as he tilted his head. "How much of my money did you steal?"
