Chapter 4
The oppressive silence of the dining gallery shattered under the weight of Lowell’s demand. The murmurs of the fifty guests erupted into a cacophony of shocked whispers and sharp accusations. The elite of the criminal underworld, who had just minutes ago sat idly by during their boss's humiliation, now scrambled to distance themselves from the exposed traitor.
Thaddeus remained glued to the padded chair, his hand desperately clutching the wine-soaked lapel of his jacket, terrified the liquid might absorb through his skin. The arrogance that had fueled his coup was completely extinguished, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated terror of a man who had just played his final hand and lost everything.
"This is a trick!" Thaddeus shouted, his voice cracking as he looked wildly around the room. "The girl lied! She’s trying to protect him! He paid her to frame me!"
"Do you believe my housemaid possesses the malice to invent a poison plot in the middle of a crowded banquet?" Lowell inquired, his tone dripping with lethal sarcasm. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, completely ignoring the two bodyguards who instinctively parted to let him pass.
"Don't come any closer!" Thaddeus panicked, shrinking back into the chair.
"Are you going to drink the wine, Thaddeus, or must I demonstrate to this room exactly what happens to those who attempt regicide?" Lowell asked, stopping just a foot away from his uncle. His broad shoulders blocked the older man's view of the exit.
Benedetta stood perfectly still beside Lowell, her hands folded tightly over her white apron. She watched the broad expanse of his back, feeling a profound mixture of awe and terror. The man she had just protected was a ruthless killer, yet he was the only source of safety in a room full of vipers.
"Take his jacket," Lowell commanded softly, not taking his eyes off his uncle.
The Black American bodyguard, recognizing that his allegiance to Thaddeus was a death sentence, moved instantly. He grabbed Thaddeus by the shoulders, hauled him roughly to his feet, and expertly stripped the expensive formal jacket from his body despite the older man's thrashing protests.
The bodyguard reached into the inner pocket and pulled out a small, glass vial. A few drops of a clear, odorless liquid remained at the bottom.
He held it up for the entire room to see.
A collective gasp echoed across the banquet tables. The proof was undeniable.
"He planted it!" Thaddeus screamed, pointing a trembling finger at the bodyguard. "You all saw it! They are conspiring against me!"
"Do you think anyone in this room believes a single word you say?" Lowell asked quietly, taking the glass vial from the bodyguard. He held it up, inspecting the deadly residue, before slipping it into his own pocket.
He turned his head slightly, his cold eyes sweeping over the guests who had refused to intervene mere minutes before. The relatives who had raised their phones now looked at the floor, terrified of meeting his gaze.
"Did you all enjoy the show?" Lowell asked the crowd, his voice projecting effortlessly. "Did you find it amusing when a coward attempted to execute the head of this family?"
No one answered. The silence was absolute.
"Marcus," Lowell said, addressing one of his loyal capos seated at a nearby table. "Will you escort my uncle to the sub-basement holding cells? Ensure he is kept alive until I have time to extract the names of his co-conspirators."
"No! Lowell, please!" Thaddeus shrieked as Marcus and two other men grabbed him roughly by the arms. "I'm your blood! You can't do this! I was just trying to show them you were weak! You need me!"
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"Does a king need a court jester who poisons the wine?" Lowell asked, turning his back on his uncle completely.
Thaddeus's panicked screams echoed down the long hallway as he was dragged out of the gallery, the heavy mahogany doors slamming shut behind him, sealing his fate in the dark.
