Lena Hart watched as six-year-old Owen proudly lifted a clear ornament containing pale powder

The word "soul" echoed off the mirrored walls, freezing the blood of the fifty guests gathered around the room. The bright, luminous colors of the drawing room seemed to drain away, leaving only the stark, horrifying reality of Daphne’s impending downfall.

"Elias, you cannot believe this is worth ending our alliance over," Daphne gasped, her chest heaving as she tried to backpedal. "My family arranged this marriage! We are supposed to unite our syndicates! Are you going to throw all of that away because of a misunderstanding?"

"Does a misunderstanding involve pouring human ashes into a wastebasket and handing them to a six-year-old child to play with?" Elias inquired, his perceptive eyes narrowing into cold slits.

"I didn't know what it was!" Daphne lied, tears of sheer desperation welling in her eyes. She pointed a shaking, diamond-adorned finger at Lena. "She never labeled it! How was I supposed to know?"

"You called it her 'magic snow'," Elias reminded her, his voice dropping to a terrifying, gravelly whisper. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You sought to break her."

He slowly swept his gaze across the room, taking in the numerous capos, donors, and relatives standing frozen among the velvet sofas. His eyes locked onto Vincent, his most trusted lieutenant.

"Have you all finished your drinks?" Elias asked the room at large.

It was phrased as a polite question, but the command hidden within it was unmistakable and absolute.

Guests practically scrambled toward the exits. There were no polite farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in expensive evening gowns fled the bright, elegant room with frantic urgency, eager to escape the blast radius of Elias Crowne’s wrath.

"What are you doing?!" Daphne shrieked, watching her audience, her leverage, and her protection sprint for the heavy mahogany doors. "You can't just dismiss them! My family's capos are in this room!"

The men loyal to the Vane family did not stay. They took one look at the cold, calculating fury in Elias's eyes and the armed men loyal to the Crowne syndicate stepping out from the shadows, and they ran just as fast as the civilians.

Within ninety seconds, the expansive drawing room was completely empty, save for Elias, Daphne, Lena, Owen, and four heavily armed Crowne bodyguards.

The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, sealing the room and locking Daphne inside with her greatest nightmare.

"Did you truly believe you could run a psychological torture operation against my household and remain standing in my home?" Elias asked, turning his terrifying focus entirely back to the woman in the crimson gown.

Daphne backed away from the craft table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished marble floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the luxurious satin of her expensive gown.