Chapter 3
Amara practically ran through the sprawling corridors of the mansion, her sensible black shoes making soft, muffled thuds against the plush carpets. Elijah remained securely in her arms, his small head resting heavily on her shoulder. The boy was exhausted, the adrenaline of the confrontation fading rapidly, leaving behind a profound lethargy.
"It's alright, Elijah," Amara murmured soothingly, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "We're going to your room now. Everything is safe. Amara is here."
"You won't leave?" Elijah mumbled sleepily, his fingers finally loosening their death grip on her white apron.
"I won't leave you. I promise," she whispered, navigating the final turn toward the master wing.
Downstairs, the atmosphere was a volatile powder keg. Xavier stood in the center of the dining room, surrounded by his most trusted lieutenants who had filtered back into the room once the civilian guests had fled. Vivian was being physically restrained by two large men in dark suits, her evening gown twisted and ruined from her frantic struggles.
"Take your hands off me!" Vivian shrieked, kicking wildly at the shins of the men holding her. "Xavier, you are making a massive mistake! My father will cut off all your shipping routes! You will lose millions!"
Xavier slowly poured himself a glass of bourbon from a crystal decanter on the sideboard. He took a sip, the amber liquid catching the light of the chandelier. He didn't look at her as he spoke.
"Your father is a parasite who feeds off the scraps I allow him to have," Xavier said, his deep voice carrying a terrifying calm. "He does not control the ports, Vivian. He merely manages them for me. A fact he is well aware of, even if you are not."
Vivian stopped struggling, her eyes widening in sudden, cold horror. "No... that's a lie. We are partners."
Xavier set the glass down with a sharp, definitive click. He finally turned to look at her, his high-bridged nose and sharp jawline casting severe shadows across his face.
"I have no partners," Xavier stated, stepping closer until he towered over her. "I have subjects. And you, Vivian, have just abused the most precious thing in my empire."
"I was trying to make him strong!" she cried out, though the arrogance had bled from her voice, replaced by genuine terror. "He's soft, Xavier! Just like his mother was!"
The silence that followed her words was the most dangerous thing in the world. The men holding Vivian physically flinched, bracing themselves. Xavier’s eyes, already cold, went completely dead. He reached out with terrifying speed, his tattooed hand gripping Vivian tightly by the jaw. The negative space of the ink on his fingers pressed starkly against her pale skin.
"You do not speak of my late wife," Xavier whispered, his face mere inches from hers. The low volume of his voice vibrated with a lethal promise. "And you do not get to decide what makes my son strong. Escort her off my property. Throw her out the gates. If she tries to take a single piece of jewelry or clothing from her suite, break her fingers."
"Xavier, no! Please!" Vivian sobbed as the men began to drag her backward toward the grand foyer. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
He released her jaw, pulling a pristine silk handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his hand. He didn't watch her being dragged away. He looked at his underboss, a scarred man named Silas.
"Double the perimeter guard," Xavier ordered, his tone shifting back to absolute, chilling business. "Put snipers on the roof. Vivian’s father will likely attempt something foolish before dawn when she runs crying to him."
"It will be done, Boss," Silas nodded grimly. "What about the girl? The maid?"
Xavier paused, his mind flashing to the image of Amara—her sophisticated uniform, her beautiful, wounded eyes, and the fierce, protective way she had held his son against a woman who vastly outranked her.
"Amara is under my personal protection," Xavier said slowly. "No one speaks to her. No one commands her. Is that understood?"
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"Crystal clear, sir," Silas replied.
Xavier adjusted his tailored vest and turned toward the grand staircase. He had an empire to defend, but first, he had a son to comfort.
