Chapter 6
The medium wide shot recaptured the immediate, terrifying fallout of Evelina’s accusation. The bright, airy colors of the dining hall felt suddenly charged with an explosive, high-voltage tension. The clean whites of the table linens and the polished highlights of the silver cutlery shimmered beneath the warm golden light, a stark contrast to the dark reality of the confrontation.
Corbin did not smile back at Evelina. He did not nod. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to harden into absolute granite.
He moved.
He did not rush, nor did he display any outward sign of explosive anger. He simply stepped sideways with a fluid, terrifying masculine grace. His broad, powerful shoulders shifted beneath the tailored dark three-piece suit. In one deliberate, protective motion, Corbin stepped beside Lena and Noel.
By doing so, he placed his towering frame entirely between Evelina and the pair, acting as an impenetrable physical wall shielding the housemaid and his heir from his fiancée.
"Is it your assertion that my son is a parrot, repeating lines fed to him by the staff?" Corbin asked. His deep, low voice rolled through the quiet room, the measured pauses striking like a physical blow.
"Corbin, please," Evelina laughed nervously, her smile tightening significantly at the corners. "The maid is obviously unstable. She wants your attention. She has been manipulating his grief for months to elevate her own status in this house."
"Do you believe a woman who seeks status would present my son to me in tears?" Corbin inquired, his cold, perceptive eyes locking onto Evelina with terrifying intensity.
He did not wait for her answer. He turned his head slightly, looking down at the beautiful housemaid kneeling beside his son.
Lena held Corbin’s gaze. The sheer, deeply masculine power he projected was overwhelming, but beneath the cold exterior, she recognized an unyielding demand for the truth.
Tears gathered rapidly along Lena’s lower eyelids, shining in the golden candlelight. Her chest heaved beneath the crisp white collar of her uniform. If she spoke the truth, Evelina would undoubtedly try to have her killed. But looking into Corbin's eyes, she knew lying was impossible.
Lena answered in a thin, frightened voice that barely disturbed the air, yet echoed with devastating clarity.
“He was locked in the pantry.”
The absolute, terrifying implication of the housemaid's words crashed over the dining hall.
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A collective, stifled gasp rippled through the gathered relatives and associates. To state that the sole heir of the Wexler syndicate had been locked in a dark room during the engagement dinner was a horrifying revelation that disturbed even the hardened criminals sitting at the table.
Across the polished walnut table, Evelina’s fair, rosy skin drained entirely of color. Her eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated panic. She realized the narrative was completely destroyed.
