Chapter 9
The heavy mahogany doors of the study swung open before Saskia could even register the finality of Dorian’s command. Two massive enforcers, dressed in dark, functional suits that mirrored their boss’s elegance but lacked his refinement, stepped into the bright, airy room. Their presence instantly darkened the luminous warmth of the space. They moved with silent, practiced efficiency, flanking the leather armchair where Saskia sat trembling.
Saskia let out a guttural, primal scream. The polished, sophisticated shelter director was entirely gone, replaced by a terrified woman facing the brutal reality of mafia justice. She thrashed wildly, her sculpted satin gown tearing as the enforcers gripped her arms and hauled her roughly to her feet.
“You can't do this!” Saskia shrieked, kicking her high heels at the men’s shins. “Dorian, please! I was going to be your wife! I loved you! I gave you a son! Please don't let them take me down there!”
Dorian stood perfectly still, his hands clasped behind his back, his tailored dark suit immaculate. His cold, observant eyes watched her struggle without a single flicker of pity.
“Do you think your screams will resurrect the six months of life you stole from this mother and child?” Dorian asked, his deep voice cutting through her hysteria with effortless authority.
Saskia dug her heels into the Persian rug, her diamond earrings swinging violently as she was dragged backward toward the door. She locked eyes with Flora, her face contorted in a mask of pure venom and terror.
“You’re a fool if you think you’ve won, Flora!” Saskia spat, her American accent harsh and ragged. “He’s a monster! He’s going to keep the boy, and he’s going to kill you to cover it up! You are nothing to him!”
Flora did not flinch. She placed her hands protectively over Ellis’s ears, shielding him from the vile threats, and stared back at the ruined woman. “You are the only monster in this room, Saskia.”
Dorian tilted his head, acknowledging the enforcers with a subtle shift of his gaze. “Will you ensure that Miss Vale is kept comfortable in the soundproof interrogation room until I arrive to extract the remaining Moretti details?”
“Yes, Mr. Ashcombe,” the lead enforcer replied, his voice gruff.
They dragged Saskia out of the study. Her frantic, echoing screams were abruptly cut off as the heavy mahogany doors were pulled shut, sealing the room in profound, sudden silence. The gentle golden highlights of the crystal chandeliers above seemed to settle back into their peaceful, elegant warmth, a stark contrast to the violence that had just been ordered.
Flora let out a long, shuddering breath, her legs suddenly feeling weak. She dropped to her knees again, wrapping her arms tightly around Ellis. The boy buried his face in her shoulder, wrapping his small arms around her neck. He smelled of expensive cologne and fine fabric, but beneath it all, he was still her little boy. She wept openly, burying her face in his hair, overwhelmed by the miraculous, terrifying reality that her son was alive.
Dorian Ashcombe watched the reunion in silence. He walked slowly back to his mahogany desk, leaning against the polished wood.
“Are you unharmed, Flora?” Dorian asked quietly.
May you like
Flora looked up, her rosy skin stained with tears. She nodded slowly, keeping her arms firmly wrapped around Ellis. But as she looked at the mafia boss, the reality of her situation settled over her like a heavy blanket. Saskia was gone, but Flora and her son were now locked in the private study of the most dangerous man in the city.
“What happens to us now?” Flora asked, her voice trembling.
