Chapter 3
The clatter of polished silverware against gold-rimmed porcelain provided a rhythmic backdrop to the overlapping conversations at the banquet table. Nora pushed Leo’s wheelchair seamlessly into the grand room, keeping her puffy, shadowed eyes focused entirely on the path ahead. Every step she took felt heavy, her body exhausted from the emotional toll of the afternoon. The bright, airy lighting of the ballroom offered no place to hide, leaving her entirely exposed to the sharp, calculating eyes of the syndicate.
"Just smile for the camera, Adrian," Celia was saying, her voice echoing clearly as she held up her smartphone. "The east coast families need to see us united."
"Put the phone away, Celia," Adrian commanded, his deep voice rumbling with a dangerous edge. "I am not a prop for your social media."
"I am merely managing our public relations, darling," Celia countered smoothly, her emerald satin gown rustling as she shifted in her velvet chair.
Nora navigated the cream marble columns, biting her lip to keep from sobbing aloud. She pushed the wheelchair deliberately toward the head of the table. The proximity to the mafia boss was always intimidating; his sheer physical presence and the artistic tattoos covering his hands commanded a terrifying level of respect. But tonight, she had to face him.
"Ensure the boss's water is refilled before dessert," a senior butler hissed at Nora as they crossed paths. He stopped, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the wheelchair. "What are you doing? Miss Arden gave explicit orders!"
"I am doing my job," Nora whispered fiercely, pushing past the stunned butler.
She reached the head table, the rubber wheels of the chair coming to a halt just a few feet away from the towering Christmas tree. The warm fairy lights reflected in Leo’s wide, nervous eyes.
Adrian was turning his signet ring, his gaze fixed on a capo down the table, completely unaware of their approach. Celia, however, had her smartphone raised, framing a shot of the table. Through the screen, she caught the movement of the black maid dress and the wheelchair.
Celia lowered the phone slowly. Her polished smile remained fixed on her lips, a mask of aristocratic composure designed to dismiss the trivial concerns of the working class. However, her eyes narrowed instantly, a sharp, venomous glint of pure malice flashing as she locked eyes with the trembling housemaid.
"What is the meaning of this interruption?" Celia asked, her voice light and conversational, yet carrying a lethal undertone.
May you like
Nora did not answer her. She stepped forward, picking up a crystal water pitcher from the nearby mahogany sideboard. Her hands shook as she moved to the empty space directly to the right of Adrian's large, velvet head chair.
She took a deep breath, preparing to shatter the pristine, curated illusion of the evening. She knew the moment she spoke, she was declaring war on the future queen of the syndicate, but looking down at Leo's pale, frightened face, Nora found her voice.
