Chapter 15
The grand dining hall fell completely silent once the screaming faded. The remaining guests, the most powerful families in the state, sat frozen, staring at their untouched plates. They had just witnessed the absolute, terrifying power of Damian Whitmore, and the uncompromising ruthlessness with which he protected his bloodline.
Damian returned to the head of the table. He picked up his crystal glass of water and took a slow, deliberate sip. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed.
"The dinner is concluded," Damian announced softly, his voice carrying effortlessly across the large room. "My men will escort you to your vehicles. Rest assured, your investments and your secrets remain perfectly safe under my protection. Have a pleasant evening."
The guests stood up quickly, eager to escape the suffocating tension. They filed out of the room under the watchful eyes of the heavily armed guards, leaving the Mafia Boss alone in the cinematic, natural light.
Damian didn't linger. He turned and walked purposefully toward the east wing. The adrenaline of the confrontation was fading, replaced by a profound, aching need to see his son.
He arrived at the security suite. Four heavily armed guards stood outside the heavy oak door. They nodded respectfully as Damian approached, swiping a keycard to unlock the heavy deadbolt.
Damian pushed the door open and stepped into the warm, dimly lit room.
Nora was sitting on a plush sofa. She had removed her white apron, and her sophisticated black maid dress looked elegant and understated. Oliver was fast asleep, his head resting securely on her lap, his small hands still clutching the fabric of her skirt. Nora was gently stroking his hair, her fair, rosy face reflecting a deep, maternal exhaustion.
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When she saw Damian, she started to stand up, careful not to wake the child.
"Stay seated, Nora," Damian murmured, closing the door behind him and locking it securely.
