Chapter 2
The silence in the dining room was absolute, a suffocating vacuum that seemed to draw all the oxygen from the air. The elite members of Xavier’s syndicate sat frozen like statues, their eyes darting between the towering Mafia boss, his trembling fiancée, and the maid holding the heir to his empire.
Amara swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry. She could feel the heavy, frantic thumping of Elijah’s heart against her chest. She looked into Xavier’s eyes—those cold, sharp eyes that were currently swimming with a terrifying, suppressed rage.
"Three nights, sir," Amara answered, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried clearly through the dead quiet of the massive room. "Whenever you were called away on business. She… she put him in the old storage room in the east wing. There are no windows."
"That is a lie!" Vivian shrieked, the pristine facade of the elegant hostess completely shattering. Her rosy skin flushed an ugly, blotchy red. She pointed a manicured finger at Amara. "You lying, manipulative little wretch! Xavier, darling, you cannot possibly believe the word of the hired help over your future wife!"
Xavier did not raise his voice. He didn't need to. He slowly turned his head to look at Vivian, his artistic, heavily tattooed hands resting casually at his sides. The negative space in the ink on his knuckles stood out starkly as his hands curled into loose fists.
"I did not give you permission to speak, Vivian," Xavier said. The words were perfectly enunciated, slow and controlled, with deliberate pauses between each syllable. It sounded less like a reprimand and more like a death sentence.
Vivian’s mouth snapped shut. She took another step back, her back hitting the edge of the mahogany dining table. The crystal glasses rattled slightly from the impact.
"Daddy," Elijah whimpered again, his tiny hands fisting tighter into Amara's apron. "It was cold."
Xavier’s chest expanded as he took a slow, deep breath. He reached out, his large, tattooed hand gently brushing against his son’s back. The contrast between the violent ink on his skin and the supreme gentleness of his touch was jarring.
"I know, my son," Xavier murmured, his voice softening only for the boy. "It will never be cold again." He then shifted his gaze toward the long table of his associates. "This dinner is over. Everyone will leave my home immediately."
Chairs scraped frantically against the marble floor. Grown men, hardened criminals who controlled the city’s underground, practically scrambled to their feet to obey the command. No one spoke. No one offered a goodbye. Within ninety seconds, the sprawling dining room was entirely empty, save for Xavier, Vivian, Amara, and the child.
"Xavier, please," Vivian begged, her voice taking on a desperate, pleading pitch. "She’s twisting the truth! I only put him in there for a few minutes for a time-out. He was misbehaving! He needs discipline, Xavier. You coddle him!"
"A time-out," Xavier repeated flatly. He took a slow, deliberate step toward Vivian. His perfectly tailored suit moved seamlessly with his predatory stride. "In the east wing. A wing that has been shut down for renovations. A wing where the heating has been turned off."
"He's a spoiled brat!" Vivian suddenly screamed, losing the last thread of her composure. "You treat him like a prince, but he's just a child! I am to be your wife! I am the one who will give you real heirs!"
Amara gasped softly, instinctively pulling Elijah tighter against her chest, covering his ear with one hand so he wouldn't hear the venom in the woman’s voice.
Xavier stopped inches from Vivian. He looked down at her, his expression entirely devoid of emotion. "You will never be my wife. And if you ever speak of my son in that manner again, I will ensure you never speak at all."
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"You need my family, Xavier!" Vivian countered, tears of rage spilling over her eyelashes. "My father controls the ports! You call off this engagement, and you start a war!"
"Then let it bleed," Xavier whispered coldly. He turned his back on her, dismissing her entire existence. He looked at Amara. "Take my son to his nursery, Amara. Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone but me."
