Chapter 4
The descent into the lower levels of the mansion was a stark contrast to the opulent warmth of the grand dining hall. The crystal chandeliers and ivory wall panels gave way to exposed brick, heavy iron fixtures, and the biting chill of the underground storage facilities. Donovan Pierce led the procession, his polished leather shoes striking the concrete steps with a rhythmic, terrifying finality. The refined tattoos on his hands flexed slightly as he reached out to push open the heavy fire doors separating the basement corridors.
Behind him, Leonie Voss stumbled. The smooth soles of her expensive heels were entirely unsuited for the rough concrete. The sculpted satin of her evening gown caught on a protruding nail, tearing the delicate fabric. She let out a frustrated, terrified sob, refusing to move any further.
“I can't go down there!” Leonie cried, pressing her back against the damp brick wall. Her fair, rosy skin was a splotchy, panicked red. “It's freezing, Donovan! Please, let's just go back upstairs. I'll pack my bags. I'll leave! If you don't trust me, just let me walk away!”
Donovan stopped. He slowly turned around, his thick, wavy hair casting dark shadows over his angular face in the dim, flickering light of the corridor.
“Do you believe trust is the currency we are trading in tonight, Leonie?” Donovan asked quietly. “Did you honestly think I would let you walk out the front door with a question like this hanging in the air?”
“She left you for another man!” Leonie screamed, her American accent sharp and hysterical. “Mara packed a bag and got into a car! You saw the security footage! You saw the note! Why are you doing this to me?”
“If my wife truly left me of her own volition, why do your knees falter on my concrete floors?” Donovan asked, stepping closer to her, his towering frame blocking the narrow hallway. “Why do you look like a woman walking to the gallows rather than a woman defending her honor?”
Further up the stairs, Maisie stood quietly, holding Eddie tight. The boy had buried his face in her neck, completely hidden from the escalating violence of the scene. Maisie's expressive brows were drawn tight in a mixture of horror and resolve. She knew exactly what kind of monster Leonie was, and she was watching the mafia boss finally see it, too.
“Are you going to walk to the freezer, Leonie, or will I have to break your legs and carry you there myself?” Donovan asked, gesturing to the heavy steel door at the end of the hall.
Leonie choked on her own tears. Realizing she had no leverage and no escape, she pushed herself off the wall. She limped down the rest of the corridor, her diamond earrings swinging wildly as she approached the massive, walk-in industrial freezer used to supply the mansion's grand kitchen.
The heavy steel door was secured with a thick, stainless steel padlock.
Donovan stepped up to the door, his cold, observant eyes analyzing the lock. He turned his head slightly, his sharp jaw setting into a brutal line.
“Who possesses the key to this lock, Leonie?” Donovan asked. “Will you hand it to me voluntarily, or must I search your gown for it?”
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Leonie closed her eyes, her chest heaving as she accepted her fate. “It isn't locked,” she whispered brokenly. “The padlock is just hooked through the latch to make it look secure.”
“Shall we test that theory?” Donovan asked, reaching out with his tattooed hand to grip the heavy steel handle.
