Chapter 8
The revelation that Saskia’s actions were not just an act of extreme, twisted vanity, but a calculated conspiracy with the Moretti syndicate, altered the atmosphere of the room permanently. This was no longer a domestic dispute over a kidnapped child; it was an active treason against the Ashcombe mafia family.
Saskia’s legs gave out. She collapsed into one of the leather armchairs near the fireplace, burying her face in her hands. The diamond earrings that had sparkled so beautifully under the banquet chandeliers now looked heavy and garish on the trembling, defeated woman.
“They approached me,” Saskia sobbed, her voice muffled by her manicured hands. “The Morettis knew I was looking for a child to solidify the marriage. They offered to handle the logistics. They paid Vargas. They staged the river accident. They just wanted a guarantee that if you fell, I would ensure the Ashcombe territory was divided favorably between our families.”
Flora stared at the woman in absolute horror. She had spent six months drowning in an ocean of grief, visiting a grave that held nothing but dirt, all because a rival mafia family wanted a real estate guarantee. She looked down at Ellis. The boy was incredibly brave, standing quietly by her side, his small hand holding firmly onto the crisp white apron of her maid’s dress.
Dorian Ashcombe stood in the center of the Persian rug, the embodiment of cold, calculated power. He adjusted his wristwatch with agonizing slowness.
“Did you think the Moretti family would honor a deal with a woman foolish enough to kidnap a child from her own fiancé’s household staff?” Dorian asked, his tone laced with chilling mockery.
“I didn't know she worked for you!” Saskia screamed, dropping her hands to reveal her ruined, tear-streaked face. “It was supposed to be a clean extraction! The Morettis assured me the mother was a nobody who wouldn't have the resources to ask questions!”
“Do you consider a mother’s love to be a variable you can simply dismiss because she lacks financial resources?” Dorian asked, his gaze drifting briefly to Flora, acknowledging the immense strength it took for the maid to stand her ground in this room.
Saskia choked on a sob, looking up at Dorian with wild, desperate eyes. “Please, Dorian. I can be an asset. I can testify against the Morettis. I know their bagmen. I know how they launder the money through the municipal charities! You need me alive to dismantle their network!”
Dorian reached into his suit jacket, his family signet ring catching the light as he retrieved a sleek, black mobile phone. He did not break eye contact with Saskia as he unlocked the screen.
“Do you honestly believe I require the testimony of a traitor to dismantle my enemies?” Dorian asked softly. “Have I ever shown an inability to crush a rival family on my own terms?”
May you like
He tapped a single button on the phone and brought it to his ear. The silence in the room was absolute, save for the crackling of the marble fireplace.
“Are my men stationed in the west wing hallway?” Dorian asked into the phone. He paused for barely a second. “Will you enter my study immediately and prepare to transport a prisoner to the basement holding cells?”
