Chapter 3
The ambient glow of the candles flickered against the polished crystal, offering a soft elegance that starkly contrasted with the viciousness of Daphne’s actions. Nora’s breathing was shallow and uneven, her delicate features pale with residual shock. The violent assault in the parlor earlier that afternoon had shattered her sense of safety in the mansion, and the jagged edges of her hair brushing against her neck were a constant, agonizing reminder.
Silas turned his body slightly, placing himself between Daphne and the trembling maid.
“Would you care to explain exactly how you managed to restrain her, Daphne?” Silas asked, his deep voice leaving absolutely no room for negotiation or lies.
Daphne gasped, clutching her satin gown against her chest. “You wouldn’t dare interrogate me like this. My father is Marcus Whitmore! We are a strategic alliance, Silas! You cannot treat me like one of your street soldiers!”
“Do you believe your father’s name serves as a shield against my wrath inside my own mansion?” Silas asked, taking a slow, deliberate step around the carved walnut chair to close the distance between them.
Realizing the absolute danger radiating from his angular face, Daphne’s bravado began to crack. “She wouldn't sit still! I had my guards hold her down in the parlor! She was crying and thrashing like an animal, making a massive mess on the rugs!”
Nora covered her face with her hands, the humiliating memory flooding back. “I didn't do anything to you,” she wept, her voice muffled. “I only brought you your tea.”
“Did you feel powerful while your men held a helpless woman down so you could butcher her hair with fabric shears?” Silas asked, his dark eyes completely devoid of mercy or warmth.
“She deserved it!” Daphne spat, her diamond earrings swinging wildly as she stood up. “She is trying to steal you, Silas! I see the way you look at her! You never look at me with that quiet affection! I had to strip her of her vanity so you would finally see her for the peasant she is!”
“Is destroying another person’s dignity the best strategy you could devise to win a man’s loyalty?” Silas asked, stepping so close to Daphne that she was forced to lean back over the table.
“I did it for us!” Daphne insisted, tears of frustration ruining her immaculate makeup. “We are getting married next month! You cannot spend your evenings watching a maid pour your water when I am sitting right next to you!”
“Does an arranged political marriage grant you ownership over my eyes and my household staff, Daphne?” Silas asked, his voice vibrating with a terrifying calm.
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“I am your equal!” she screamed, her fair skin splotchy with rage. “I am the daughter of a boss! I did what I had to do to protect our future! The Whitmore family demands respect, Silas!”
“Do you mistake petty, vindictive assault for a demonstration of power?” Silas asked, stepping back and adjusting his tailored vest. “Are you truly so weak that you must torture a harmless maid to feel secure in your own position?”
