Chapter 6
Chase groaned loudly, spitting blood and potting soil onto the pristine tiles as the bodyguards hauled him to his feet. His nose was clearly broken, swelling grotesquely across his fair face. He blinked rapidly against the bright, natural sunlight pouring through the glass roof, struggling to comprehend the situation.
"You broke my nose, you son of a bitch," Chase mumbled, swaying heavily against the guards holding his arms.
Cullen stood up slowly, his intimidating presence entirely dominating the room. He didn't even look at Chase. He kept his eyes locked on Tove, watching the way her gaze darted nervously between him and her bleeding brother.
"Why did you do it, Tove?" Cullen asked, his voice a low, menacing rasp. "You could have ignored my daughter. You could have hired a dozen nannies to keep her out of your sight. But you chose to act today. Why?"
Tove swallowed hard, shaking her head. "I told you, I lost my temper!"
"You are lying," Cullen whispered. He turned slightly, raising a single finger toward his lead bodyguard. "Break Chase’s left arm."
"Wait, what?!" Chase screamed, his eyes going wide.
Before Chase could even struggle, the massive bodyguard locked Chase’s arm behind his back and applied a sudden, brutal torque. A sickening snap echoed through the conservatory. Chase let out an agonizing, blood-curdling shriek, collapsing to his knees as the guards held him upright by his ruined limb.
Tove shrieked, covering her mouth with her trembling hands. "Stop! Stop it, Cullen, please!"
"I will ask you one more time," Cullen said, entirely unmoved by the screams echoing in the bright, cinematic room. "Why did you try to eliminate my daughter?"
Tove stared at her brother, who was weeping in agony on the floor. Her arrogant resolve shattered completely.
"Because of the inheritance clause!" Tove sobbed, the truth finally tearing from her throat. "My father demanded it! The syndicate lawyers found a loophole in the Ravello trust! If we get married, and if Mireya dies before she comes of age, control of the southern ports defaults to your spouse in the event of your death!"
Cullen’s face remained a mask of cold, unyielding marble. The loose strands of hair on his forehead gave him the look of a dark, fallen angel.
"You planned to kill my daughter," Cullen summarized slowly, his volume barely a whisper. "And then, you planned to kill me."
"It was my father's plan!" Tove wept hysterically, throwing her brother and her family under the bus to save herself. "Chase was supposed to arrange an accident for you after the honeymoon! I didn't want to do it, Cullen, I swear! But they said if I didn't get rid of the kid first, the money would be locked in probate!"
Cullen looked at Chase, who was groaning on the floor, sweat pouring down his pale face.
"Is this true, Chase?" Cullen asked.
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"Screw you," Chase spat, glaring up with pure hatred. "My father has three hundred men ready to march on this estate. You're a dead man, Ravello."
"I am already dead to you," Cullen murmured softly. "But you are going to be very useful."
