Chapter 3
The crackling of the grand marble fireplace grew louder in the vast, empty dining room. Juliette pushed her chair back, the legs screeching against the floor. She stood up, her satin gown pooling around her ankles, looking like a cornered animal wrapped in luxury.
“I am not trying to buy anything!” Juliette shrieked, losing her aristocratic composure entirely. “I am reminding you of who I am! I am Juliette Ward! You need my family to secure the borders! If you break this engagement, you will start a war that will burn this city to the ground!”
Callum did not flinch at her outburst. He slowly turned his head away from her, looking down beneath the table where Nessa was still kneeling beside Ellis. The metal chain connecting the boy’s ankle to the heavy chair gleamed mockingly in the candlelight.
“Will you hand me the key to that padlock, Juliette?” Callum asked, extending his tattooed hand, palm up.
Juliette swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry. She looked at his outstretched hand, the refined ink on his fingers stark against his fair skin. “I… I left it upstairs in my vanity. I didn't bring it down.”
“Must I break the chain with my bare hands, or will you send for the key immediately?” Callum inquired, his jaw settling back into a firm, unyielding line.
“Callum, please, just let the maid take him upstairs to clean him up!” Juliette begged, pointing a manicured finger at Nessa. “She can handle it! She is just a servant, she is used to cleaning up messes! Let us sit down and discuss this like adults!”
“Do you believe I will discuss alliances while my son remains shackled like a dog in my own dining room?” Callum asked.
He didn't wait for her to answer. Callum knelt on the hardwood floor, utterly disregarding his tailored charcoal suit. He grasped the heavy iron chain connecting Ellis to the chair. The padlock was small but sturdy steel.
“Are you alright, Ellis?” Callum asked softly, his cold eyes softening for a fraction of a second as he looked at the boy.
“I'm sorry, Papa,” Ellis whispered, hiding his face in Nessa’s shoulder. “I couldn't hold it.”
“Did I ever ask you to apologize for someone else's cruelty?” Callum asked, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s knee.
Callum reached into his inner jacket pocket and withdrew a heavy, tactical folding knife. With a swift, practiced motion, he wedged the hardened steel blade into the locking mechanism of the cheap padlock.
“What are you doing?!” Juliette gasped, taking a step forward. “You will ruin the chair!”
“Do you think I care about the velvet on a chair when my son is bleeding into the metal?” Callum asked, twisting the blade with a violent surge of force. The locking mechanism snapped with a sharp crack, the metal giving way under the immense pressure. The chain dropped heavily to the floor.
Nessa instantly scooped Ellis into her arms. The six-year-old buried his face in her crisp white collar, sobbing quietly. Nessa stood up, her heart-shaped face pale but filled with a fierce, protective determination. She looked at Callum, waiting for permission to leave the toxic atmosphere of the room.
“Will you take him to his nursery and draw a warm bath, Nessa?” Callum asked, rising to his full height and slipping the knife back into his suit.
“Yes, Mr. Whitestone,” Nessa said softly. “Come on, Ellis. Let’s get you warm.”
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Nessa carried the boy toward the side doors, her black skirt swishing softly. Callum watched them go until the door clicked shut, ensuring his son was safely removed from the battlefield. Then, he turned his full, devastating attention back to the woman wearing his diamonds.
“Did you truly believe you would survive the night after committing such an atrocity in my home?” Callum asked.
