Chapter 4
The golden light from the tiered crystal chandeliers seemed to drop in temperature, casting long, harsh shadows across the ivory wall panels. Juliette’s face, previously flushed with the warmth of the evening, drained of all color until her skin turned the shade of ash.
“Callum, you are overreacting!” Juliette cried out, clutching the silk fabric of the heavy curtains nearby. “He is fine! He is just embarrassed! You cannot throw away our entire future over a momentary lapse in judgment!”
“Do you classify the premeditated torture of a child as a momentary lapse in judgment?” Callum asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. His polished leather shoes made no sound, giving him the aura of a phantom stalking its prey.
“It wasn't torture!” she shrieked hysterically. “It was discipline! You are surrounded by killers and thieves every day, yet you judge me for trying to instill some order in your household?”
“Is it order you seek, Juliette, or is it merely the sadistic pleasure of absolute control?” Callum inquired, stopping just a few feet away from her. The small artistic tattoo on his neck shifted as he tilted his head.
“You need me!” Juliette sobbed, completely breaking down as she realized the absolute lack of mercy in his cold, watchful eyes. “My father will not let this go! He will send his capos! He will march on your estate if you lay a hand on me!”
“Do you think the threat of a war frightens me more than the threat you pose to my blood?” Callum asked, his voice dropping to an icy whisper.
He stared at her in complete silence for a long moment. He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored dark suit, his refined hand tattoos catching the golden light, and withdrew a heavy, encrypted mobile phone. He didn't look at the screen as he pressed a single button, raising it to his ear.
“Are you waiting in the grand foyer, Marcus?” Callum asked into the receiver. He paused, listening to his underboss. “Will you bring two men into the dining room immediately?”
Juliette let out a shattered, guttural sob, dropping to her knees on the hardwood floor. The sculpted satin gown crushed beneath her weight. She knew exactly what Marcus did for the Whitestone family. He was the man who made Callum’s problems disappear into the river.
“Callum, please!” she begged, crawling toward him, her manicured hands reaching for his polished shoes. “I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again! I’ll be a mother to him! I swear it!”
“Do you truly believe you will ever have the opportunity to look at my son again?” Callum asked, stepping back to avoid her touch as if she were diseased.
The heavy mahogany double doors of the dining room swung open. Marcus, a towering man with a heavily scarred face and a dark trench coat, stepped into the room, flanked by two equally intimidating enforcers. They moved with absolute, silent precision, ignoring the lavish surroundings and focusing entirely on their boss.
“Will you escort my former fiancée to the holding cells in the cellar?” Callum asked, not taking his eyes off the weeping woman on the floor.
“No! No, please!” Juliette shrieked, kicking and thrashing wildly as the two enforcers reached down and grabbed her by the arms. They hauled her to her feet with effortless strength. “My father will kill you, Callum! He will slaughter your entire family for this!”
“Will you ensure she is gagged if she continues to scream, Marcus?” Callum inquired, his voice completely devoid of emotion.
Marcus nodded grimly. “Yes, boss. Let's go, princess.”
The enforcers dragged Juliette backward toward the doors. Her threats devolved into hysterical, panicked sobs that echoed down the grand hallway until the heavy doors clicked shut behind them, sealing the dining room in a profound, suffocating silence.
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Callum stood perfectly still for a long moment. He turned his head, looking at the broken chain still resting on the floor, before adjusting his cuffs.
“Shall I go check on my son?” Callum asked himself quietly into the empty room.
