Chapter 7
The sudden, synchronized movement of the bodyguards sent a wave of fresh panic rippling through the wealthy American guests. The heavy, mahogany doors of the ballroom slammed shut with a definitive, echoing thud, the metallic clack of the deadbolts engaging instantly. The bright, cinematic daylight continued to pour through the windows, trapping the elite crowd in a beautiful, brilliantly colored cage.
"Nobody leaves this room," Benedict ordered, his voice resuming its low, terrifying calmness. He kept his left hand securely over the spot where Orla hid against his leg, offering the child a silent reassurance of absolute safety.
Evelina froze in her tracks, halted by the imposing wall of muscle and tailored suits standing between her and Benedict. Her chest heaved under the sapphire evening gown. She looked around the locked ballroom, realizing with profound, horrifying clarity that she was completely isolated.
"Benedict, you are making a massive mistake," Evelina stammered, her voice shaking violently. "You are embarrassing me in front of the entire city! These are our friends! Our political allies! You cannot treat us like your street soldiers!"
"You surrendered the right to my respect the moment you used my daughter as a diversion," Benedict stated, his eyes locked onto hers with unyielding intensity. "I asked you a question, Evelina. Who were you looking at in the crowd?"
"No one!" she lied frantically, her rosy skin flushing a deep, guilty pink. "I was just looking for someone to help me! You are acting insane!"
Benedict did not argue. He slowly brought his right thumb under the edge of the dark wax seal on the envelope. He applied a steady, deliberate pressure. The wax cracked with a sharp, dry snap that sounded unnaturally loud in the silent room.
"Stop!" Evelina begged, her voice dropping into a pathetic, desperate whimper. She fell to her knees on the polished floor, her elegant gown pooling around her. "Benedict, I beg of you. If you open that... they will kill me."
Benedict paused. His thumb rested against the torn flap of the heavy paper. The bright light illuminated the stark terror on his fiancée’s face.
"Who will kill you, Evelina?" Benedict asked softly, his American accent laced with a dangerous curiosity.
"The people I owe," she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "I had debts, Benedict. Massive debts from before we met. They found me. They told me that if I didn't deliver the security schematics for your northern shipping routes... they would reveal everything. They would ruin me."
A collective gasp swept through the nearby associates. The security schematics for the northern shipping routes were the lifeblood of the Thornmere syndicate's entire smuggling operation. If that information fell into the hands of a rival family, or worse, the federal authorities, it would mean the absolute destruction of their empire.
Benedict’s face remained a mask of flawless, terrifying stone. He looked down at the weeping woman on the floor.
"You sold my family," Benedict whispered, the sheer, icy menace in his voice freezing the blood in the veins of everyone listening. "To cover your personal gambling debts."
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"I did it to survive!" Evelina cried, looking up with tear-streaked cheeks. "I was going to replace the files! I just needed to buy some time! Please, Benedict, you have enough money to crush them! You can protect me!"
"I protect my blood," Benedict replied coldly. He looked back up into the crowd of terrified, fair-skinned guests. "And now, you are going to tell me exactly which one of my 'friends' in this room was supposed to walk out of here with this envelope."
