Chapter 2
The swinging doors leading from the vast kitchens opened, and Evelyn Hart stepped into the bright, luminous grand foyer. At twenty-five, the housemaid possessed a breathtaking, gentle beauty with delicate features and incredibly expressive eyes. She wore an elegant, fitted black maid dress, a pristine white apron, and a white collar and cuffs. Her dark hair was neatly arranged beneath a white ruffled maid headband, her graceful posture unwavering despite the immense weight of the silver serving tray she carried.
Evelyn moved silently across the polished marble floor, navigating the crowded room of fifty elite guests with practiced ease. Her fair, rosy skin glowed under the warm light of the crystal chandeliers, but her heart was hammering a frantic, terrifying rhythm against her ribs. She knew the dark secrets that pulsed beneath the surface of this opulent mansion. She had seen the way Elena Cross looked at the staff when Dante was absent, and she had heard the hushed, terrified whispers regarding the sudden disappearance of Dante's father, Arthur.
Evelyn approached a carved walnut console table situated near the towering Christmas tree. She carefully lowered the heavy silver serving tray, the crystal glasses and gold-rimmed porcelain clinking softly against the wood.
As she set the tray down, she found herself standing mere feet away from the oversized wooden transport trunk. It was a massive, heavy thing, secured with a thick exterior brass clasp on the lid. The festive fabric and large gold bow draped over it did nothing to disguise its true, utilitarian nature.
Suddenly, a sound broke through the festive melodies of the string quartet playing in the corner.
It was a muffled, breathy cough.
The sound came directly from inside the oversized wooden trunk.
Evelyn froze. Her hands stopped moving, her fingers lingering on the edge of the silver tray. Her expressive eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated horror. She knew that cough. It was a sound she had heard for weeks before the old man had vanished.
Nora, who had been admiring a gold ornament on the lower branches of the tree, heard the sound as well. The six-year-old girl turned her head, her fair face lighting up with absolute, innocent wonder. She looked at the massive box, completely unaware of the sinister reality of her world.
Nora turned and looked directly at Dante, who was standing a few yards away, speaking with Silas. The little girl was delighted by the apparent surprise, assuming it was a magical Christmas gift.
"Daddy, your present is snoring!" Nora called out, her sweet voice cutting clearly through the ambient noise of the reception.
The immediate vicinity went dead silent. The capo mid-sentence stopped talking. The senator's wife halted her champagne glass halfway to her mouth.
Elena Cross, who had been gracefully accepting a compliment from a buyer, snapped her head toward the tree. Her polished, public smile vanished for a fraction of a second. Her eyes flicked with lightning speed toward the wooden trunk, a flash of genuine, cornered panic crossing her aristocratic features.
Dante Voss stopped speaking immediately. His broad shoulders went perfectly rigid beneath his tailored suit. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he turned his head slowly, his cold, observant eyes locking onto the trunk, and then shifting directly to his fiancée.
Elena realized she was being watched. She took a sharp, shallow breath and forced her facial muscles to obey. She met Dante’s intense gaze, and a reassuring smile appeared on her face, though it arrived a second too late to be convincing.
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"A wind-up toy, darling," Elena said smoothly, her voice dripping with a condescending, dismissive sweetness. "A mechanical bear for the playroom. The gears must have shifted when the staff moved the box. It’s nothing to worry about."
Dante did not smile back. He did not blink. His sharply defined jaw set into unyielding granite. The deep, controlled rhythm of his breathing slowed. He looked from Elena to the heavy brass clasp fastening the lid of the trunk, the cold machinery of his mind instantly dismantling her lie. Wind-up toys did not cough.
