Chapter 6
A collective, stifled gasp rippled through the gathered relatives and associates. To state that a living witness to the murder of the former boss had just walked into the memorial dinner was a horrifying revelation that disturbed even the hardened criminals sitting at the tables.
"Did she just say he saw the killer?" a capo whispered, his hand instinctively gripping the edge of the walnut table.
Across the polished surface, Yvonne’s fair, rosy skin drained entirely of color. Her eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated panic. She realized the narrative she had carefully constructed and maintained for a year was slipping rapidly from her manicured grasp.
She needed to immediately reassert her control and paint the old man as a desperate, lying coward trying to save his own skin.
Before Yvonne could open her mouth to shriek a denial, Kellan moved.
The medium wide shot recaptured the action as the Mafia boss rose from his champagne velvet chair. He did not rush, nor did he display any outward sign of explosive anger. He moved with a fluid, terrifying masculine grace. His broad, powerful shoulders shifted beneath the tailored dark three-piece suit.
In one deliberate, unexpected motion, Kellan reached out and drew out the empty champagne velvet chair beside him.
He offered the seat to Hugh, physically placing himself between Yvonne and the trembling old man, keeping Mina securely nearby. He acted as an impenetrable wall, shielding the frail witness and the brave housemaid from his furious fiancée.
"Sit, Hugh," Kellan commanded softly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Hugh collapsed into the velvet chair, his legs finally giving out. He gripped his walking cane and the water glass, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
Yvonne swallowed hard, sinking her manicured nails into the palms of her hands. She forced herself to meet Kellan’s cold, observant eyes. She desperately attempted to restore her reassuring, polite smile, projecting an aura of complete, unbothered calm.
“He ran before the shooting.”
Yvonne’s voice stayed gently certain, carrying a smooth, casually dismissive tone. She delivered the words as though stating an undeniable historical fact. Her eyes were intensely watchful, carefully and frantically searching Kellan's sharply defined expression for any sign of agreement.
"He is a coward, Kellan," Yvonne continued, leaning slightly forward in her sculpted sapphire gown. "He abandoned your father to save himself, and now he is concocting a desperate lie to avoid your judgment. You cannot possibly entertain this farce."
"Is it a farce to listen to a man who returns from the grave to speak?" Kellan inquired, his deep voice rolling through the quiet room, the measured pauses striking like a physical blow.
May you like
"He is trying to manipulate you!" Yvonne insisted, her voice lowering slightly, attempting to manage the situation before it escalated further. "The police reports confirmed it was a rival hit! The old man wasn't even in the alley when it happened!"
"Do police reports often capture the shadows that hide within our own ranks, Yvonne?" Kellan asked, his cold, perceptive eyes locking onto her with terrifying intensity.
