Chapter 5
The heavy doors clicked shut, plunging the vast, luminous dining hall into a profound, ringing silence. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned gold-rimmed porcelain and half-empty wine glasses. The opulent space, designed for celebration, now felt like a gilded cage.
Daphne backed away from the head table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished marble floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the sculpted satin of her expensive gown. Her diamond earrings shook as she wept, her carefully constructed facade entirely destroyed.
"Vincent, you cannot believe this," Daphne sobbed, her chest heaving. "My family arranged this marriage! We are supposed to unite our syndicates! You are going to throw all of that away because of an old man's confusion?"
Vincent stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He slowly crouched down, bringing his handsome, angular face level with his father’s.
"Can you tell me exactly where she keeps your medicine, Father?" Vincent asked gently, his deep voice softening to comfort the older man.
Howard looked at his son, his eyes filled with a mixture of profound relief and lingering shame. "She keeps them in the wall safe in her dressing room. She said she changed the combination so the staff couldn't steal them."
"Does a thief often lock away what they intend to steal?" Vincent asked, standing back up to his full height. He turned his broad, powerful shoulders toward his fiancée. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to bristle with barely contained violence.
"You would take the word of a sick old man and a maid over mine?" Daphne shrieked, pointing viciously at Bea. "Look at her! She thinks she's better than me just because she plays nurse to your father!"
Vincent didn't look at Bea. He kept his perceptive eyes locked entirely on Daphne, dissecting her panic, reading the guilt written plainly across her flushed, rosy skin. He had survived in the criminal underworld by being an unparalleled judge of human character. He knew when someone was lying to him, and he knew the awful, crushing weight of the truth.
"Are you capable of telling the truth, Daphne, or must I extract it from you?" Vincent asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.
"I love you, Vincent!" she wept, falling to her knees on the luxurious rug, the sculpted satin of her gown pooling around her. She clasped her hands together in a begging gesture. "Please, darling! I was only trying to prepare this house for our future! He requires full-time care! He should be in a facility, not wandering these halls!"
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"Did you believe that isolating my father would secure your place at my side?" Vincent asked.
His voice dropped to a terrifying, gravelly whisper. It was a sound that had preceded the end of many men's lives. Daphne stared up at his movie-star handsome face, realizing with absolute, horrifying clarity that there was no escape. The mafia boss would not stop asking questions until he had torn her world apart to find justice.
