Chapter 4
The question hung in the bright, airy dining room like a guillotine waiting to drop. The soft, elegant warmth of the cinematic lighting starkly illuminated the sheer terror now gripping Annelise’s face. She looked frantically around the massive room, her eyes darting from the hardened capos to the wealthy politicians, desperately searching for an ally. No one moved. The elite members of the Marlowe syndicate were entirely loyal to the man standing by the fireplace, and they recognized an execution when they saw one.
"Everett, you can't be serious," Annelise stammered, her voice pitching high with panic. "We have an alliance! My family—"
"Is your family running this estate?" Everett interrupted, his voice a lethal, vibrating hum that shook the nearby crystal stemware.
He slowly removed his hand from his son's back and took a single, deliberate step toward Annelise. The physical distance between them evaporated.
"Are you under the impression that you dictate the staff in my home?" Everett asked quietly, his cold eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Do you believe that your presence here grants you the authority to exile the woman who raises my son?"
"I am to be your wife!" Annelise shrieked, tears of genuine panic finally streaming down her face. She reached out, her manicured fingers grasping at the empty air toward him. "I demand respect in this house!"
"Do you command respect by terrorizing an infant?" Everett asked.
Annelise gasped, clutching her chest as if she had been physically struck. The complete and total ruin of her ambition crashed down upon her. She had pushed too far, too fast, entirely underestimating the mafia boss's devotion to his bloodline.
Everett didn't wait for another pathetic excuse. He turned his head slightly, his perceptive eyes locking onto the heavy oak doors at the end of the dining room.
"Marcus?" Everett asked softly.
The massive, suited head of security stepped forward instantly from the shadows. "Yes, Boss."
"Is Ms. Hart’s vehicle ready?" Everett inquired, his tone chillingly calm.
"It can be at the front doors in sixty seconds, Boss," Marcus confirmed grimly.
"Will you ensure she is placed inside it immediately?" Everett asked, looking back at Annelise. "Will you ensure she takes absolutely nothing that belongs to this family?"
"Everett, no! Please!" Annelise screamed, her facade completely shattering. She lunged forward, trying to grab his arm. "I love you! I was doing it for us!"
Everett didn't even flinch. He simply stepped back, allowing her desperate hands to grasp empty air. Two bodyguards stationed near Marcus moved with terrifying, silent efficiency. They closed the distance in seconds, grabbing Annelise firmly by her upper arms.
"Are we finished here?" Everett asked the room at large, his voice echoing off the carved walnut paneling.
The guards hauled the screaming, sobbing woman backward out of the dining room, her heels dragging uselessly across the expensive carpet. The heavy doors slammed shut behind her, finalizing her exile.
The engagement dinner had suddenly become a quiet, tension-filled wake.
Everett turned his attention back to the woman and the child standing beside him. Bree hadn't moved an inch. She stood tall in her sophisticated black maid dress, her chest heaving slightly as she processed the extreme violence of the power dynamic she had just witnessed.
"Bree?" Everett asked gently, the deep, rumbling timber of his voice shifting from lethal executioner back to a quiet, controlled warmth.
"Yes, Mr. Marlowe," Bree replied, her voice shaking only slightly.
"Will you take Owen upstairs to his nursery?" Everett asked, his eyes softening as he looked at his son. "Will you stay with him tonight?"
"Of course, sir," Bree murmured, holding the baby tighter against her shoulder. She quickly grabbed the handle of her small packed bag from the floor.
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"Leave the bag," Everett commanded softly. "Will you ever need to pack it again?"
Bree looked up into his cold, observant eyes, realizing that her life had just irrevocably changed. She slowly released the handle of the bag. "No, sir. I won't."
