Chapter 1
The engagement banquet inside Dorian Ashcombe’s sprawling mansion was a breathtaking display of opulence, bathed in bright, airy, and luminous colors. Soft, elegant warmth radiated from the cascading crystal chandeliers suspended high above, their gentle golden highlights illuminating the intricate gilded ceiling moldings and the pristine ivory-paneled walls. There was no heavy yellow cast or muddy orange tint to the room; the clear lighting perfectly revealed the entire magnificent space. Tall ivory candles glowed steadily in ornate silver candelabras, situated carefully among sprawling centerpieces of white roses, glittering crystal stemware, and fine porcelain. Warm golden light clearly revealed every face in the room, highlighting the fair, rosy skin of the elite American guests gathered to celebrate the mafia boss’s upcoming nuptials.
At the head of the polished walnut table sat Dorian Ashcombe. He was a striking man of forty-five, radiating an aura of terrifying calm. He wore a flawlessly tailored dark three-piece suit that accentuated his broad shoulders. A family signet ring gleamed on his finger, and a heavy luxury wristwatch peeked out from beneath his crisp cuff. Beside his left shoulder sat his fiancée, Saskia Vale. Thirty-three and fiercely elegant, she wore a sculpted satin evening gown that caught the ambient light, paired with dazzling diamond earrings and a massive engagement ring. To Dorian’s right sat seven-year-old Ellis, his newly adopted son, looking uncomfortably formal in a miniature dinner jacket, tailored trousers, and polished leather shoes.
Flora Bennett, a twenty-seven-year-old housemaid working the first shift, moved gracefully through the champagne velvet chairs. Her sophisticated black maid dress featured a cinched waist and a short A-line skirt, complemented by a neatly tied white apron, a crisp white collar, and matching cuffs. Her fair, rosy complexion glowed under the chandeliers as she approached the head table. She carried a silver tray bearing the evening’s delicate desserts.
Flora stepped up beside Ellis, her movements practiced and elegant. She carefully placed a dessert plate before the young boy. As she did, Ellis looked up. His blue eyes widened as they locked onto Flora’s face. The boy’s breathing hitched. He reached out with a small, trembling hand and gently gripped the fabric of Flora’s white apron. Flora’s fingers stopped instantly against the plate’s rim, her heart skipping a violent beat.
“Mommy?” Ellis whispered, his voice cutting through the ambient chatter with a clear American accent.
Dorian noticed Flora’s stunned stillness immediately. He turned his head, looking directly at the young maid. The entire room seemed to freeze. Every guest stopped eating, the clinking of silverware silencing entirely as they turned toward the head table. Dorian’s deep, low voice resonated through the bright room, his cadence slow and controlled.
“Flora. Why is that boy calling you Mom?”
Saskia met Dorian’s eyes with a faint, reassuring smile, masking the sudden spike of panic in her chest. “Ellis calls everyone Mommy, darling,” she said smoothly, before turning to shoot Flora a brief, vicious warning glance.
Flora ignored the threat. She met Dorian’s gaze, heavy tears gathering along her lower eyelids, making her blue eyes shine in the golden light. She rested a trembling hand on Ellis’s shoulder. Dorian rose to his feet, a towering presence between his fiancée, the maid, and the boy.
“Saskia told me Ellis drowned,” Flora said, her voice cracking.
May you like
Ellis looked directly at Saskia, his small brows drawing together in anger and confusion, while maintaining his tight hold on Flora’s apron. “You said Mommy sold me.”
Dorian briefly looked at Flora, then at Ellis. Slowly, he shifted his eyes toward Saskia, followed by a slight, deliberate turn of his head. His mouth tightened almost imperceptibly as he held a cold, unwavering stare, letting the devastating silence consume the room.
