Chapter 5
The heavy walnut doors clicked shut, plunging the vast, luminous dining hall into a profound, ringing silence. The cascading chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned gold-rimmed porcelain and half-empty crystal wine glasses.
Juliette backed away from the table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the sculpted satin of her expensive gown.
"Callum, you cannot do this," Juliette sobbed, her chest heaving. "My family arranged this marriage! We are supposed to unite our syndicates! Are you going to throw all of that away over a misunderstanding?"
Callum stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He slowly crouched down, bringing his handsome, angular face level with his son’s.
"Where is the key to the lock, Ellis?" Callum asked gently, his deep voice softening significantly to comfort the boy.
Ellis sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his small hand. He pointed a trembling finger across the table. "She put it in her purse, Daddy."
Callum rose slowly to his full height. He turned his broad, powerful shoulders toward his fiancée. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to bristle with barely contained violence.
"Will you hand me the key, Juliette, or must I take it from you?" Callum asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. His polished leather shoes clicked ominously against the floor.
"I am your fiancée!" Juliette shrieked, tears of desperate rage filling her eyes. "I love you! I did it for us! He needs to learn respect!"
"Can respect exist where cruelty is the teacher?" Callum asked.
He didn't wait for her answer. He reached across the table, grabbed her small, heavily beaded evening bag, and ripped it open. He dumped the contents onto the pristine white damask. Among the lipstick and the compact mirror, a small silver key clattered against a plate.
Callum picked it up and immediately knelt back down beside his son. He unlocked the metal cuff, tossing the heavy chain onto the floor with a resounding crash. He lifted Ellis effortlessly into his powerful arms, the boy burying his tear-stained face into the crook of his father's neck.
Callum looked up at Nessa. The housemaid stood frozen by the table, her hands clutching the edges of her white apron.
"Will you take him upstairs and draw a warm bath?" Callum asked, his voice returning to a steady, commanding calm. "Will you ensure he has whatever he needs to feel comfortable again?"
"Yes, Mr. Whitestone," Nessa answered, her voice a soft, tremulous whisper. She stepped forward, gently taking Ellis from Callum's arms. The little boy clung to her instantly, wrapping his arms around her neck.
"Will you remain in his room until I come for him?" Callum asked, his cold eyes searching her softly rounded face.
"I won't leave his side, sir," Nessa promised.
She turned and carried the boy out of the dining room, her sophisticated black dress swishing softly as she retreated to the safety of the upper floors.
May you like
Callum watched them go, his powerful shoulders rising and falling with a slow, controlled breath. When the doors closed behind them, he turned his full, terrifying attention back to Juliette.
"Do you believe a title grants you immunity from my judgment?" Callum asked, his voice dropping to a gravelly, lethal whisper.
