Chapter 3
The crackling of the ornate marble fireplace seemed deafening in the profound, suffocating silence of the dining hall. Odette’s face, previously flushed with wine and the triumph of the evening, drained of all color until her rosy skin turned the shade of ash. Her diamond earrings trembled slightly as a subtle, uncontrollable shake took over her body.
Cassian did not break eye contact with her. He slowly raised his tattooed hand, resting his knuckles on the polished walnut table. The silence stretched until it became agonizing, the elite guests holding their collective breath.
"Are you all waiting for a formal invitation to leave my home?" Cassian asked, his deep, low voice echoing across the long table. He didn't look at the guests; his cold eyes remained entirely fixed on his fiancée.
The question was a direct command. Instantly, the scraping of velvet dining chairs against the hardwood floor sounded like thunder. Dozens of capos, crime bosses, and politicians scrambled to their feet, abandoning their fine porcelain plates and crystal stemware. They moved with a hurried, terrified silence, practically sprinting toward the grand double doors of the dining room. No one offered their goodbyes or dared to look back.
Within two minutes, the massive, luxurious room was entirely empty, save for the four of them: Cassian, Odette, Willa, and young Finn. The heavy mahogany doors clicked shut, echoing with a hollow finality.
"Cassian, darling, please," Odette whispered, her voice cracking as the reality of her isolation set in. She reached out across the table, her engagement ring flashing in the candlelight. "The boy is confused. He misunderstood a conversation I had with the doctor about your insomnia. I was just trying to help you rest!"
Cassian slowly lowered his hand from the table. He looked at the delicate porcelain teacup, then back at the woman he was supposed to marry.
"Do you believe a sedative requires a clandestine operation in my pantry?" Cassian asked. His measured pauses carried the weight of a death sentence.
"The maid is manipulating him!" Odette stammered, pulling her hand back as if the table had burned her. "She probably put him up to this! She hates me! She’s been trying to ruin this engagement since the day I moved in! She wants your money, Cassian!"
Willa stood her ground, though her knees felt weak. She kept her hand hovering near the saucer, refusing to defend herself. The truth was already standing in the room; it didn't need her protection.
"Do you think I am blind to the venom you disguise as concern?" Cassian asked, stepping slowly around the edge of the table, his broad shoulders dominating the space. "Is burying me the only way you could secure control of this syndicate?"
"It wasn't like that!" Odette shrieked, losing her aristocratic composure entirely. "You are reckless! You refuse to negotiate with the northern families! I was trying to save our empire! If you die, the commission promised me the seat!"
"Did you think the commission would honor a promise to a widow who poisons her husband's tea?" Cassian asked, taking another slow, deliberate step toward her.
"You need me!" Odette sobbed, real tears of panic finally spilling over her cheeks as she backed away, her satin gown catching on a velvet chair. "My family controls the ports! If you touch me, my father will start a war that will burn this city to the ground!"
"Do you think the threat of a war frightens me more than a traitor sharing my bed?" Cassian inquired, tilting his head slightly, the small neck tattoo shifting against his collar.
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He didn't wait for her to process the absolute lack of mercy in his eyes. 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.
"Are you waiting in the grand foyer, Marcus?" Cassian asked into the receiver. He paused, listening to his underboss. "Will you bring two men into the dining room immediately?"
