Chapter 5
The camera angle shifted, holding the medium wide shot as the atmospheric pressure in the dining hall reached a breaking point. The bright, generous illumination clearly revealed every face, leaving absolutely no room for deception in the shadows.
Kellan did not move his powerful shoulders. He simply stared at Mina, his cold, observant eyes piercing through her sophisticated professional exterior. He knew his staff well. Mina was not a woman prone to dramatics or insubordination. Her presence here, escorting the most wanted man in the syndicate's history into a memorial dinner, was a calculated, deliberate act of absolute defiance.
Kellan looked directly into Mina’s eyes.
“Mina. Why bring a traitor?”
His voice remained deep and low, but the measured question carried a chilling, cold accusation. The words dropped into the silent, luminous room like a heavy stone into still water.
Every single guest at the massive, crowded tables who had still been holding their breath finally exhaled. The melodic hum of polite conversations was entirely dead. Men in expensive formal wear and women in satin gowns turned their heads, their fair, rosy faces locking onto the head of the table. The silence was absolute, heavy with the terrifying realization that the apex predator of their world had just initiated a public tribunal.
Mina froze for a fraction of a second. She swallowed hard, the muscles in her throat contracting visibly beneath the crisp white collar of her maid dress. She was entirely exposed beneath the bright, golden glow of the cascading chandeliers, trapped between the man who owned the city and the woman who was about to marry him.
If she spoke the truth, Yvonne would undoubtedly try to have her killed the moment the dinner was over. But looking into Kellan Ashford's demanding eyes, Mina realized that withholding the truth carried a far more immediate, fatal consequence for both her and the old man.
The camera pushed into a tight close-up of Mina.
The bright, clear lighting illuminated every detail of her beauty—the expressive brows drawn together in deep distress, the delicate cheekbones pale with fear, and the loose low bun remaining perfectly polished despite her internal panic.
Mina held Kellan’s intense, perceptive gaze. Her lower lip trembled slightly, a violent, involuntary shudder of adrenaline, but she forced herself to keep her head high. Her inner brows lifted slightly, an expression of profound vulnerability and quiet agony.
She opened her mouth, preparing to speak the words that would inevitably shatter the empire. She did not raise her voice. She did not shout. But her answer emerged in a strained, careful voice that carried with devastating clarity across the carved ivory wall panels.
May you like
“He saw your father’s killer.”
The words were a quiet, devastating detonation. They hung in the luminous air, bouncing off the gilded mirrors, impossible to misinterpret. The absolute, terrifying implication of the housemaid's words crashed over the dining hall. The old chauffeur was not a coward who had fled a random hit. He was a primary witness to an assassination, and he had been hiding from the true murderer.
