Chapter 8
The freezing basement kitchen felt suffocatingly tense as the weight of Rosalind's treason fully settled over the room. Vincent turned his back on his frantic fiancée, entirely dismissing her hysterical threats. He knelt once more beside his mother's cot, his broad shoulders shielding Evelyn from the sight of the woman who had imprisoned her.
"Will you allow my men to carry you upstairs to your private suites, Mother, so the estate doctor can attend to you immediately?" Vincent asked, his voice returning to a gentle, measured murmur.
"I can walk, Vincent," Evelyn said firmly, though she accepted his strong arm as he helped her slowly to her feet. "But I would appreciate a very warm fire."
"Will a roaring fire suffice?" Vincent asked. He looked toward the doorway. "Guards, will you escort my mother to the east wing, ensure a perimeter is established around her doors, and send for the doctor?"
As the enforcers moved to assist the matriarch, a quiet figure slipped through the heavy steel doorway. Clara Ellis stood in her pristine white apron, her delicate features pinched with deep concern. She held a thick, luxurious wool blanket in her hands.
Clara didn't wait for permission. She approached Evelyn and gently wrapped the heavy blanket around the older woman’s trembling shoulders, offering her a warm, reassuring smile.
"Toby is safe upstairs, ma'am," Clara whispered softly to Evelyn. "He is waiting for you by the fireplace."
Evelyn reached out, her frail hand squeezing Clara's arm gratefully. "Thank you, my dear. You are a very brave girl."
Vincent watched the exchange, his dark eyes softening profoundly. Clara had not only exposed the coup, but she was now risking the wrath of the entire syndicate to ensure his family's comfort. The quiet, unspoken affection he had harbored for the gentle maid flared into something fierce and undeniable.
"Clara, will you remain with Toby and my mother until I return?" Vincent asked, catching her attention as the guards led his mother away.
"Of course, sir," Clara answered, her expressive eyes meeting his with a quiet, fierce loyalty. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, "Please be careful, Vincent. She said her father’s men are already on the property."
The sound of his first name on her lips, spoken with such raw, unprotected emotion, struck him harder than any physical blow. It was a warning that Rosalind's corruption extended far beyond the basement walls.
Clara hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Vincent alone in the dark room with Rosalind and two remaining enforcers.
Rosalind, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, tried to leverage the new information. "She's right, Vincent! My father’s private security detail is stationed at the front gates! If I don't walk out of this mansion in the next ten minutes, they will breach the perimeter! You are surrounded!"
May you like
Vincent slowly turned toward her, the artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit. The cold, calculating apex predator had fully returned.
"Did you truly believe a dozen rented thugs could lay siege to my home and live to see the sunrise?" Vincent asked softly. "Will you take her back upstairs to my study so we can have a very long conversation about her father's political debts?"
