Chapter 1
The grand dining room of the Cross mansion was a vision of cinematic elegance. Crystal chandeliers cast a gentle golden glow over the crowded engagement dinner. The lighting was crisp and perfectly balanced, illuminating the room without a trace of muddy orange or yellow tint. The space felt bright, airy, and luminous. The guests, an elite gathering of white American politicians and high-ranking capos with fair, rosy skin, murmured politely over crystal wine glasses.
At the head of the sprawling mahogany table sat Nathaniel Cross. He was forty years old, an apex predator draped in bespoke wool. Handsome as a movie star, his deeply masculine presence commanded the room entirely. His powerful shoulders filled out a tailored dark three-piece suit flawlessly. He had an angular face, a high-bridged nose, and a sharply defined jawline shadowed by extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble. His thick, slightly wavy hair was naturally swept back, a few loose strands falling carelessly over his forehead. Cold, perceptive eyes tracked every subtle movement. Refined artistic tattoos graced his hands and fingers with generous negative space, matching a small tattoo visible on his neck. A heavy family signet ring rested on his finger, gleaming beside an expensive wristwatch.
To his right sat Vivienne Shaw. At thirty-two, she was striking, her fair skin glowing against a sculpted satin evening gown. Diamond earrings caught the chandelier light, and a massive engagement ring rested on her finger. Her public smile was polished and radiant, but beneath the surface lay a quietly controlling, ambitious nature.
Between them sat three-year-old Sophie, Nathaniel’s daughter. She wore a modest formal party dress, a soft cardigan, and tiny flats. Before her on the table lay a simple pencil drawing. It showed four figures holding hands: Nathaniel, Vivienne, a figure wearing an apron, and herself.
The kitchen doors swung open, and Lily Parker stepped silently into the bright room. At twenty-six, she was the primary housemaid, but her delicate beauty rivaled a movie star. She possessed a softly oval face, delicate cheekbones, expressive brows, and fair, rosy skin. Her hair was pinned elegantly into a braided low bun. She wore a sophisticated black maid dress with a cinched waist, a slim fitted silhouette, and a short A-line skirt. A white collar, cuffs, and a neatly tied white apron completed the uniform. She moved with elegant, feminine polish, carrying a silver tray.
Lily gently placed a delicate dessert plate directly in front of the little girl.
May you like
Instead of eating, Sophie gripped a small pink eraser in her tiny hand. She pressed it hard against her pencil drawing, rubbing frantically over the smallest figure on the paper—the one meant to be herself. The paper crinkled dangerously under the violent friction.
Nathaniel stopped speaking to a nearby capo. His cold eyes narrowed as he looked down. He reached out with a tattooed hand, gently placing his fingertips on the corner of the drawing, keeping the fragile paper from tearing under his daughter's desperate erasure.
