Chapter 3
The air in the bedroom grew suffocatingly dense. Linda Cole, sensing the catastrophic shift in power, desperately tried to regain control of the room. Her fair, rosy cheeks flushed with a toxic mix of indignation and fear. She stepped directly between James and the bed, her pearl jewelry rattling slightly against her chest.
"There is nothing to explain, James," Linda said, her voice shrill. "Emily is clumsy. She fell against the doorway this morning. Ryan was merely trying to help her sit up."
"Do not lie to me," James said quietly, his gaze boring into her. "I heard what your son said. I heard him pin her down."
Linda’s eyes darted to the hallway. She lunged forward and snatched the small pink teddy bear from the hardwood floor. She spun back around, her face twisted in an ugly, mocking sneer.
"You think you can just march in here and play the protective father?" Linda spat, throwing the pink teddy bear directly into James’s chest. The plush toy bounced off his decorated uniform and landed softly on the bed. "Take this worthless gift and get out of my house!"
"You're out of your mind if you think you're taking her," Ryan added, stepping up beside his mother. His chest heaved as he tried to match the older man's imposing presence. "She is my wife. She belongs here with me."
"She belongs to no one," James replied, not moving a single inch. "She is a Bennett. And you are a dead man walking."
Ryan’s face contorted with rage. Humiliated in front of his mother and terrified of the promise in the Mafia boss's eyes, his flight-or-fight response short-circuited. Ryan stepped forward and violently shoved James backward.
James barely moved, his heavy polished shoes remaining firmly planted on the rug.
"Get out!" Ryan screamed, his voice cracking.
Without hesitation, Ryan threw the first punch, aiming a wild right hook at James's jaw. James merely shifted his weight. He absorbed the glancing hit across his broad shoulder, the expensive fabric of his Army dress uniform barely wrinkling.
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James did not flinch. He did not stumble. He slowly turned his head back to face his son-in-law. His expression, previously burning with a father's rage, became completely, terrifyingly cold. It was the face of a man who had commanded armies and ordered executions, a man who felt absolutely nothing for the insect standing in front of him.
"That," James whispered, "was the biggest mistake you will ever make."
