Chapter 5
Before Elise could force the devastating truth past the lump in her throat, a sharp, frantic movement shattered the stillness at the head table.
Dahlia Merrick abruptly stood up. Her luxurious emerald evening gown snagged slightly on the arm of her velvet dining chair, the fabric tearing with a soft, audible rip that mirrored the destruction of her carefully constructed life.
The color had vanished entirely from Dahlia’s fair skin. The polished, reassuring public manner she had maintained all evening had evaporated, leaving her looking hollow and violently panicked. Her heavy diamond earrings swung erratically as she looked at the weathered man standing just feet away.
Dahlia’s smile briefly faltered, collapsing into a grimace of pure, unadulterated terror. She took a sharp, shallow breath. With visible, agonizing effort, she forced the corners of her mouth back up, restoring the smile, though it now looked more like a death mask under the cinematic lighting.
She turned her head, looking directly at Damian, desperate to intercept the narrative before the old man could speak.
"My father," Dahlia stated, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal, brittle and frantic. "He is my father."
The lie hung in the bright, luminous air, heavy and desperate.
"Your father?" Damian asked slowly, his deep voice carrying a tone of dangerous skepticism. "Did you not inform me that your father passed away in a nursing home five years ago?"
"He is... he is just confused, darling," Dahlia stammered, reaching a trembling hand out toward Damian’s arm, though she did not dare touch him. "His mind has been gone for years. Dementia. It's a terrible disease. He wanders off from the facility, he makes up stories. He thinks he is Owen's father because he used to help raise him. It's a tragic delusion."
"A delusion?" Walter spoke up, his low, steady voice cutting through her frantic lies. "Is that what you tell yourself when you try to sleep at night, Dahlia?"
"Shut up!" Dahlia shrieked, losing her aristocratic composure completely. She pointed a shaking finger at the housemaid. "Elise, you stupid, malicious girl! How dare you bring a deranged old man into this house to ruin my engagement dinner! Guards! Remove him!"
The two bodyguards flanking the doors took a hesitant step forward, but a single, sharp look from Damian froze them in their tracks.
"Do you believe my men take orders from you, Dahlia?" Damian asked quietly, his cold eyes shifting from the frantic woman to the weathered man.
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"He is dangerous, Damian!" Dahlia pleaded, tears of panic finally spilling over her rosy cheeks. "He is unwell! You cannot listen to the ramblings of a madman and a jealous servant! She just wants to humiliate me because she wants you for herself!"
"Is madness the reason he wears a wedding band that matches the one you claimed to have buried?" Damian inquired, his sharp gaze locking onto the gold ring glinting on Walter's left hand.
