Chapter 3
The tension in the grand conservatory was a physical, suffocating weight pressing down on the chests of everyone present. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to bathe the room in their bright, airy light, but the engagement dinner had fundamentally shattered. The air smelled of white roses and the chlorine dampness clinging to Maris and Asher.
Eleanora backed away from the head table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the sculpted satin of her expensive gown.
“Orson, you cannot believe this,” Eleanora sobbed, her chest heaving. “My family arranged this marriage! We are supposed to unite our syndicates! The Price family brings you the eastern shipping routes! Are you going to throw all of that away because of a lying maid and a confused child?”
Orson stood immovably in his tailored three-piece suit. He did not even blink at the threat of her family's power. He slowly swept his cold, observant gaze across the room, taking in the fifty guests sitting frozen at their white damask tables. The wealthy politicians and syndicate lieutenants held their breath under his scrutiny.
“Have you all finished your meals?” Orson asked the room at large.
It was phrased as a question, but the command hidden within it was absolute and undeniable. Chairs scraped violently against the polished floors as the guests practically scrambled to their feet. There were no courteous farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in elegant evening gowns fled the bright, luxurious room with frantic urgency, desperate to escape the blast radius of Orson Vale’s wrath.
Within ninety seconds, the expansive conservatory was completely empty, save for Orson, Eleanora, Maris, and Asher. The heavy wooden doors slammed shut in the distance, sealing the room and locking Eleanora inside with her greatest nightmare.
“Do you understand what you have just done?” Eleanora shrieked, her voice echoing shrilly in the vast, empty space. “You just humiliated me in front of the governor! My father will kill you for this! He will burn your empire to the ground!”
“Does your father fight battles for women who drown children?” Orson asked quietly, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. His polished leather shoes clicked ominously against the marble.
“I didn't drown him!” Eleanora wept, falling to her knees on the floor, the sculpted satin of her gown pooling around her. She clasped her hands together in a begging gesture. “Please, Orson! I was just trying to teach him to be strong! He is so weak! He cries all the time! You need a strong heir, not a fragile little boy who is terrified of his own shadow!”
“Do you define strength by the ability to endure torture in silence?” Orson inquired, his voice dropping to a terrifying, gravelly whisper.
“I did it for us!” Eleanora pleaded, reaching out to grasp the air between them. “I wanted him to toughen up so we could be a real family! I wanted to give you real children!”
Orson looked down at the trembling woman. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only retribution.
“Do you expect me to harbor a monster under my roof to appease a shipping magnate?” Orson asked.
He reached into his tailored jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He pressed a single button, raising the phone to his ear. The small neck tattoo shifted seamlessly with the movement.
“Are my security details stationed at the outer doors?” Orson asked into the receiver. “Will you come to the conservatory and escort Miss Price to the basement holding cells?”
Eleanora gasped, her fair skin turning entirely translucent. She clutched her hands to her chest in absolute horror.
“Orson, please, you can't put me in a cell! I am Eleanora Price!” she screamed, scrambling backward on her hands and knees.
“Will you remove the ring, Eleanora, or must I have my men cut it from your hand?” Orson asked smoothly, his cold, perceptive eyes completely devoid of mercy.
Trembling violently, completely stripped of her power and her future, Eleanora ripped the heavy diamond engagement ring from her finger. She threw it fiercely onto the polished walnut table. It struck a crystal wine glass with a sharp crack, spinning out of control before coming to rest near a flickering tall candle.
Two massive security guards in dark suits entered the room. They marched forward without a word, hauling Eleanora roughly to her feet.
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“Will you ensure she is kept in complete isolation until I decide her fate?” Orson asked his men.
Eleanora shrieked, thrashing wildly against their iron grip, but they were unyielding. They dragged her backward out of the luminous conservatory, her screams echoing long after the doors had shut.
