Chapter 8
The luminous, airy warmth of the dining gallery offered no solace to the woman kneeling on the patterned rug. Juliana sobbed uncontrollably, her face buried in her manicured hands, her diamond engagement ring catching the bright light in a mocking display of failed ambition. The silence stretched, tight and unforgiving, broken only by her ragged, panicked weeping.
Alden stood over her, an imposing monolith of masculine power. His polished leather shoes rested mere inches from the hem of her ruined silk gown. He waited, his patience a weapon as sharp and precise as a scalpel.
"Are you prepared to tell me everything you relayed to your father, or must I call my interrogators to assist you?" Alden asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.
Juliana flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup, her eyes wide with primal terror. She knew the stories of what Alden Kincaid did to traitors within his syndicate.
"I told him about the southern docks!" Juliana choked out, the venom finally breaking through her tears as self-preservation took over. "I told him which politicians you were bribing! I was just trying to give my family leverage! We didn't want to be subservient to you after the wedding!"
Mina gasped softly, holding Owen tighter against her apron. The sheer, calculated magnitude of the espionage was staggering. Juliana wasn't just a cruel woman; she was a highly effective operative who had used a housemaid’s love for her child to compromise the entire Kincaid empire.
Alden did not react physically. His high-bridged nose and sharply defined jawline remained locked in a mask of cold composure. But behind his perceptive eyes, a dark, violent calculus was rapidly computing the depth of the immediate danger to his syndicate.
"Did you believe that selling my secrets would allow your father to absorb my territory without a war?" Alden asked quietly.
"We were going to force you into a corner!" Juliana pleaded, reaching out to grasp the leg of his tailored trousers. "I was trying to protect myself, Alden! If I didn't do it, my father would have disowned me!"
Alden looked down at the trembling woman clinging to his leg. 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 survival and retribution.
"Do you expect me to harbor a treacherous spy under my roof?" Alden asked.
He didn't wait for her to answer. He reached down with his artistic, tattooed hands and forcefully peeled her fingers off his suit. He stepped back, severing all physical contact with her forever.
"Is there any reason I shouldn't have my men escort you to the basement holding cells immediately?" Alden inquired, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with immaculate precision.
"Alden, please, you can't!" Juliana wept, crawling forward on her knees. "My father will kill you when he finds out the engagement is broken! He will burn this city to the ground to avenge me!"
"Are the consequences of your treason my concern?" Alden asked.
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He reached into his jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a single digit and pressed the phone to his ear. The small neck tattoo shifted seamlessly with the movement.
"Will you send a security detail to the grand dining gallery?" Alden asked into the receiver. "Will you ensure Miss Vale is escorted to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately?"
