Chapter 4
The question hung in the bright, golden air like an executioner's blade. It was not a question born of curiosity; it was a deadly demand for a confession, dripping with the absolute promise of retribution.
The silence in the grand drawing room became a physical pressure. Daphne stared back at Elias, her chest heaving slightly beneath her crimson satin gown. The cinematic lighting left absolutely no shadows for her cruelty to hide within.
Daphne did not flinch under the suffocating weight of his gaze. She reached out casually, her diamond earrings flashing as she meticulously straightened a single red rose protruding from the desecrated porcelain urn. She then looked directly at Elias, lifting her chin with an arrogant, unyielding pride.
"I needed a vase, darling," Daphne answered softly, with deliberate, chilling composure.
The admission was a knife to the chest of the entire syndicate. The casual, aristocratic dismissal of a human life and a daughter's profound grief stripped away any remaining illusion of Daphne's humanity.
Elias’s jaw tightened slightly, the very short stubble on his face bristling with suppressed, explosive violence. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as his fists clenched. He did not yell. He did not reach for a weapon. His restraint was a masterclass in terror.
He slowly turned to his right. Elias placed the clear glass ornament gently into Lena’s trembling hands.
Lena cradled the ornament desperately against her rumpled white apron, her tears finally spilling over her lashes and tracking down her pale cheeks. She pulled the glass sphere tightly to her chest, as if she could somehow protect the last remnants of her mother from the monsters in the room.
Elias stepped forward, inserting his broad-shouldered frame directly into the medium wide space between Daphne and Lena. He placed his body entirely between his fiancée and the weeping housemaid, keeping six-year-old Owen securely beside his leg. He created an impenetrable physical shield of masculine authority.
Elias held Daphne’s gaze, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. The cold, unwavering stare promised absolute, undeniable destruction. As she looked into the eyes of the man she had sought to control, Daphne’s polished, composed smile finally disappeared, replaced by a mask of raw, undeniable fear.
"You desecrated the remains of a woman’s mother for a floral arrangement," Elias stated, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that shook the crystal glasses on the nearby tables.
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"She is a maid, Elias!" Daphne snapped back, her American accent losing its practiced elegance, pitching higher with defensive panic. "It was a tacky piece of porcelain cluttering the room! You cannot possibly humiliate me in front of our families over a pile of dust!"
"You humiliated yourself the moment you proved you lack a human soul," Elias replied coldly.
