Chapter 7
The safe room on the third floor of the mansion was a stark contrast to the opulent dining hall below. Lined with reinforced steel and soundproofed walls, it was sparsely decorated with a velvet sofa and a heavy mahogany desk. Despite the grim nature of the room, Lena had done her best to make it warm for Eli, wrapping the trembling boy in a thick cashmere blanket and sitting closely beside him on the sofa.
"Are the bad men going to come up here, Lena?" Eli asked, his small voice muffled by the blanket.
Lena stroked his hair gently, her delicate cheekbones pale but her expression fiercely determined. "No, sweetie. Your father’s men are the best in the world. They won't let anyone past the first floor. You are completely safe here."
The heavy steel door suddenly clicked, the intricate locking mechanism disengaging with a loud thud. Lena instinctively pulled Eli closer, her heart leaping into her throat. But it was only Damon who stepped into the room.
He had shed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, fully revealing the extensive, artistic tattoos wrapping around his powerful forearms. The lethal aura he carried in the dining room had softened, replaced by the weary, protective demeanor of a father.
"May I sit with you?" Damon asked softly, gesturing to the empty space on the sofa next to his son.
Eli nodded eagerly, throwing off the blanket and crawling into his father’s lap. Damon wrapped his large, heavily inked arms around the boy, holding him tight. He buried his face in Eli's hair, a profound look of relief washing over his sharply defined features.
"Did she ever hurt you, Eli?" Damon asked, his deep voice thick with unspoken emotion. "Did she ever lay a hand on you?"
"No, Dad," Eli mumbled against Damon’s shirt. "She only hurt Lena. She said if I told you, she would fire Lena, and then I wouldn't have anyone left."
Damon’s jaw clenched tight. He looked up, his cold, perceptive eyes locking onto Lena. She sat perfectly still, her hands folded in her lap, the loose strand of hair beside her cheek framing her softly oval face.
"How long has this been happening, Lena?" Damon asked.
Lena swallowed hard, feeling the immense weight of his gaze. "Since the day she moved in, Mr. Kingsley. It started with small threats. Then she began pinching my arms when no one was looking. Today was the first time she left a mark like that."
"Why didn't you come to me immediately?" Damon asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes searching hers for the truth.
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"Because she told me the Voss alliance was the only thing keeping the rival syndicates from attacking the estate," Lena admitted softly, her expressive brows drawing together. "I couldn't risk your life, or Eli's life, just because I was being bullied. I thought I could endure it until the wedding."
"Did you honestly believe I would trade your safety for an alliance?" Damon asked, his voice a low, intensely intimate rumble.
