Chapter 4
The medium wide shot held the agonizing tension of the scene. Julian’s cold, perceptive eyes remained locked on Natalia, dissecting the synthetic warmth of her smile. The bright, airy illumination of the dining hall felt like a harsh interrogation spotlight, reflecting off the gilded mirrors and marble columns.
"Is confusion capable of composing a melody that has never existed outside the walls of my private chambers?" Julian asked.
His deep, low voice rolled through the quiet room, the measured pauses striking like the methodical ticking of a metronome.
Natalia swallowed hard, the diamond earrings trembling against her jawline. "Julian, darling, she is a sick woman we took in out of charity. She must have overheard you humming it, or perhaps the staff mentioned it. Her mind is entirely broken. She latches onto fragments of our lives to make herself feel important."
"Do broken minds possess the clarity to soothe my son when all other attempts fail?" Julian inquired, his broad shoulders remaining squarely positioned between Natalia and Elise.
Elise watched him from the safety of his shadow, her heart racing. The sheer, deeply masculine power he projected was overwhelming. She gathered her courage, realizing that the Mafia boss was actively dismantling his fiancée's lies to protect the truth she had offered.
Looking directly into Julian’s cold, expectant eyes, Elise took the final, terrifying leap.
“She says she’s your wife.”
Elise whispered the words. Her inner brows lifted helplessly, an expression of profound empathy and terror. The bright, clear lighting caught the moisture that suddenly gathered along her lower eyelids, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Miles remained peacefully asleep against her chest, completely oblivious to the apocalyptic storm his caregiver had just unleashed.
The horrifying truth dropped into the bright, illuminated room like a heavy stone.
A collective, stifled gasp rippled through the seated guests. The late wife of the Mafia boss was not resting at the bottom of the ocean. She was alive, hidden away like a prisoner in the dark, isolated guesthouse on the very edge of the sprawling estate, while the woman who had presumably orchestrated her demise stood at the head of the table wearing a sculpted satin gown.
Julian slowly, deliberately turned his terrifying gaze toward Natalia.
The polite, reassuring smile disappeared entirely from Natalia's fair, rosy face. The blood drained from her cheeks, leaving her looking sickly and translucent in the warm golden light. Her lips pressed tightly together, entirely unable to formulate another lie. Her left hand, bearing the massive diamond engagement ring, went completely, paralyzingly still against the white damask tablecloth.
Every single guest remained absolutely silent, facing Julian, paralyzed by the public unmasking of the future bride.
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"Did you truly believe," Julian asked, his voice dropping into a register of pure, concentrated ice, "that you could bury my wife alive on my own property without me discovering the grave?"
Natalia opened her mouth, her breath catching audibly in the quiet room. She looked wildly around the table, desperately seeking a single ally among the dozens of powerful syndicate members, but the faces staring back at her were stony and unforgiving. The line had been crossed, and the penalty for high treason was death.
