Iris Lane paused as young Owen offered her a small key decorated with a red Christmas ribbon

Leona backed away from the table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the marble floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the luxurious velvet of her expensive gown. Her diamond earrings shook as she wept, her carefully constructed, elegant public manner entirely destroyed.

"Elliot, you cannot believe this is real," Leona sobbed, her chest heaving as she tried to backpedal. "We are supposed to unite our syndicates! You cannot throw all of that away because of a misunderstanding! I will apologize to the girl! I will buy her whatever she wants!"

Elliot stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He slowly reached down and placed a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder. Owen leaned into his father’s leg, his brave facade finally crumbling as silent tears tracked down his cheeks.

"Are you prepared to remove the ring from your finger, Leona, or must I cut it from your hand?" Elliot asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.

Leona flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup, her eyes wide with primal terror. She knew the stories of what Elliot Crowne did to traitors within his syndicate.

"You can't do this!" Leona choked out, the venom returning as self-preservation took over. "My father is Victor Cross! He will burn your empire to the ground if you humiliate me like this!"

"Is your father a man who fights battles for foolish, cruel daughters?" Elliot asked quietly.

"He will kill you!" Leona pleaded, reaching out to grasp the edge of the dining table. "I am going to be your wife, Elliot! We signed the contracts! You cannot back out now without causing a massive war!"

Elliot looked down at the trembling woman. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The political affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only survival and absolute retribution.

"Do you expect me to harbor a sadistic abuser under my roof to appease a shipping magnate?" Elliot asked.

He didn't wait for her to answer. He reached into his tailored jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a single digit and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Marcus," Elliot said into the receiver, his eyes locked on his former fiancée. "Will you come to the dining room and escort Miss Cross to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately?"

He lowered the phone and looked at the broken socialite one last time.

"Have you finally realized the price of your ambition, Leona?" Elliot asked softly, as the heavy mahogany doors of the dining room burst open.

Marcus and another massive security guard in dark suits entered the room. They marched forward without a word, hauling Leona roughly to her feet. She shrieked, thrashing wildly against their iron grip, but they were unyielding.