Chapter 3
Giselle didn't hesitate. Her hands were trembling so fiercely that she struggled for a fraction of a second to navigate the deep pocket of her crisp white apron. She reached in and pulled out a heavy, encrypted mobile phone. It was Hugo’s secure device, a lifeline to the true power of his empire, which she had been tasked with keeping safe while he attended the banquet.
She carefully placed the heavy black device directly into his large, tattooed hand. The brief contact of their skin sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, grounding her amidst the terrifying reality of what she had just done.
"Thank you," Hugo murmured, his thumb instantly swiping across the screen.
The silence in the grand ballroom was absolute, a heavy vacuum waiting to be filled by inevitable violence. The gentle golden highlights of the chandeliers seemed to spotlight the impossible tableau at the center of the room: the untouchable mafia boss, the bleeding usurper, and the beautiful housemaid who had just rewritten the rules of engagement.
Casper was leaning against the banquet table, groaning as blood soaked the front of his expensive formal suit. The two massive bodyguards stood awkwardly before him, their weapons undrawn, unsure of how to proceed. They had been paid to restrain Hugo, but the sudden intervention of a civilian maid and the boss's newly freed status paralyzed their training.
Hugo did not stand up immediately. He remained in his chair, projecting an aura of relaxed, terrifying dominance. He connected the call on the encrypted phone, his cold, observant eyes locking directly onto Casper.
"Marcus," Hugo said into the receiver. His deep, commanding voice echoed flawlessly across the silent banquet tables. "Seal the estate. Nobody leaves."
The command was a death sentence.
Casper’s bloody, arrogant smile disappeared instantly. He lowered his hands from his ruined nose, his eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated terror as he realized the magnitude of his miscalculation.
The two bodyguards flanking Casper exchanged a quick, uncertain glance. The bright, clear lighting of the ballroom offered no shadows to hide their hesitation. They looked at the mafia boss, then at the frantic, bleeding man behind them, realizing that the true king of the syndicate was still very much in power.
Giselle stayed close beside Hugo, refusing to step away. With a shaking hand, she used the clean linen napkin to carefully blot a remaining drop of champagne from his cheek. She acted as a fragile, elegant shield, offering him the only genuine comfort available in a room full of traitors.
Around them, dozens of guests slowly lowered their glasses. The realization that they were now trapped inside a locked estate with an angry, betrayed mafia boss washed over the crowd.
"Hugo, wait," Casper stammered, spitting blood onto the marble floor. "The perimeter... I paid the men on the perimeter. You can't lock down the estate."
"Do you truly believe you can outbid me for the loyalty of my own tactical teams, Casper?" Hugo asked softly, placing the phone face down on the table. "Did you think I was unaware of your little financial transactions over the past month?"
Casper swallowed hard, his face turning a sickly shade of ash. "This is a misunderstanding. I was just trying to show them you were weak! The commission demanded a stronger hand!"
"Does a strong hand rely on a cheap ambush during a charity gala?" Hugo inquired, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly whisper. "Or does a strong hand crush a rebellion before it can even draw breath?"
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Hugo slowly stood up. Without the bodyguards restraining him, his towering frame dominated the space. He kept Giselle securely by his side, his large, tattooed hand resting lightly on the small of her back, offering a silent, undeniable claim of protection.
"Are you going to draw your weapons, gentlemen?" Hugo asked, looking directly at the Black American and white American bodyguards standing before Casper. "Or will you step aside and live to see tomorrow?"
