Chapter 5
The air in the pavilion was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the metallic tang of fear. Selene stood up, holding the smoothed paper birthday crown in her left hand. The bright, cinematic sunlight poured through the skylights, casting a flawless glow over her fair, rosy complexion. She possessed the terrifying beauty of a queen who had just executed a traitor.
She walked slowly toward where Troy was struggling to push himself up onto his elbows. The ribbons were tangled around his expensive loafers, and his cheek was already swelling an angry, dark purple from the impact of her signet ring.
Selene stopped just inches from him. Her towering, intimidating presence completely overwhelmed the man she had almost married. She looked down at him, her expression a mask of absolute, icy calm.
"Troy," Selene said. Her voice was incredibly quiet, yet it resonated with a lethal, apocalyptic finality that froze the blood in his veins.
Troy looked up, his arrogance completely shattered. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.
"That adoption," Selene murmured, speaking slowly, letting the dangerous pauses between her words stretch out. "Was sealed by federal judges. The records... do not exist on any public server. The only people who knew... were my capos, my attorneys, and the priest who baptized him."
She tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes piercing straight through his pathetic facade.
"You did not... stumble upon this information," Selene continued, her American accent crisp and sharp in the silent room. "So, I am going to ask you once. And if you lie to me... you will not leave this estate alive."
The bodyguards shifted their weight, their hands resting ominously near their holstered weapons. The threat was not a metaphor.
"Who sent you?" Selene demanded, her voice dropping into a lethal whisper. "Who gave you the file?"
Troy swallowed hard, blood trickling from his split lip. He looked frantically toward his mother, Opal, who was still pressed against the padded bench. Opal’s eyes widened in sheer panic, and she immediately, frantically shook her head at him, a desperate, silent command to keep his mouth shut.
Selene caught the exchange. A slow, chilling realization dawned on her. The Drake family wasn't just a group of greedy social climbers looking for a quick payout through marriage. They were operatives.
"Ah," Selene breathed softly, turning her cold gaze toward the sixty-one-year-old matriarch. "I see. You didn't come for the money, Opal. You came for the leverage."
"Selene, please," Troy rasped, finally finding his voice. "We can make a deal. I still care about you. We can run the city together."
"We are not partners," Selene stated, not even looking back at him. She stared directly at Opal. "You are working for the Chicago outfit, aren't you? They sent you to infiltrate my house, to find a weakness. And when you couldn't find one in my business, you went after a three-year-old child."
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Opal’s fair skin turned a sickly, ashen gray. She opened her mouth to deny it, but the terrifying certainty in Selene’s eyes stopped her dead.
"Take them," Selene commanded her bodyguards, her voice ringing out with absolute, undeniable authority. "Lock them in the holding cells beneath the south wing. We are going to find out exactly how much Chicago paid them to betray me."
