Chapter 7
The profound, ringing silence of the grand drawing room settled heavily over the remaining three figures. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned craft table and the magnificent Christmas tree. The opulent space, designed for celebration, now felt entirely different—it was a sanctuary of grief and war.
Elias stood silently for a moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, controlled breath. The betrayal was absolute, the upcoming syndicate war with Daphne’s father inevitable, but the immediate, toxic sickness within his home had been surgically removed. Now, he had to secure his son and the woman who had suffered to protect them.
He turned his body, pivoting seamlessly on the polished marble floors, and focused his entire attention back on Lena and Owen.
Lena was still kneeling on the floor, her hands trembling as she smoothed her rumpled white apron around the clear glass ornament. Her beautiful features were pale, her eyes still puffy and red from her earlier tears, and her disheveled hair fell loosely around her face. She kept a protective arm wrapped around Owen, who was leaning against her side.
Elias crouched down, his tailored suit shifting, and looked his son in the eye.
"Are you unharmed, Owen?" Elias asked, his deep voice softening significantly, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Owen looked at the towering mafia boss, his innocent eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't know it was Mommy's ashes. Auntie Daphne said it was magic snow."
"Would I ever be angry with you for a lie someone else told?" Elias murmured, his thumb gently brushing his son's cheek. "You are a very brave boy. You helped us find the truth."
He gently helped Owen stand, then shifted his gaze to Lena.
The beautiful housemaid was watching him, her exhausted eyes drawn together in quiet empathy. She had endured hours of psychological and physical torment simply because she existed in a space Daphne wanted to control. The fierce, gentle loyalty she had displayed was a rare, precious commodity in Elias's dark, violent world.
"I am so deeply sorry, Lena," Elias said softly, stepping closer to her, his imposing frame casting a protective shadow over her trembling figure. "My men will recover every grain of ash from that bin. We will restore your mother to you."
"Thank you, Mr. Crowne," Lena answered gently, slowly standing up, her graceful posture returning despite her disheveled state. "I am just glad Owen wasn't hurt."
"You are no longer a maid in this house," Elias stated, his voice a low, gravelly command laced with profound affection. "From this moment forward, you answer to no one but me. You will move into the secure wing tonight with Owen."
Lena’s breath hitched. The magnitude of the offer, and the safety it provided, was overwhelming. The warm, golden light of the chandeliers caught the fresh tears welling in her eyes, this time born of absolute relief.
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"Thank you, Elias," Lena whispered.
Before Elias could respond to the sound of his first name on her lips, the heavy mahogany doors of the drawing room burst open again. A bloodied security operative stumbled into the room, gasping for breath, his dark suit torn.
