Chapter 7
Walter sat heavily in the velvet chair, his worn wool coat a jarring anomaly against the gold-rimmed porcelain and crystal glasses lining the table. He let out a long, ragged breath, resting his hands on the carved walnut armrests. The exhaustion of months of desperate searching, of surviving the freezing ocean, seemed to finally catch up to him, yet his clear, steady gaze never wavered.
He didn't look at the capos, nor did he look at the imposing mafia boss standing beside him. Walter looked directly across the table at Dahlia.
Dahlia was weeping openly now, her flawless makeup running down her rosy cheeks. She clutched the emerald fabric of her gown, shaking her head in a continuous, frantic denial, trapped under the cinematic lighting of the chandeliers with nowhere left to hide.
"Walter, please," Dahlia whispered, her voice a broken, pathetic rasp. "Don't do this. We can fix this. I thought you were gone."
"Did you think I was gone, Dahlia, or did you make sure I was gone?" Walter asked. His voice was low, incredibly steady, completely devoid of the hysteria radiating from his wife.
"It was an accident!" Dahlia shrieked, looking wildly toward Damian, desperate to salvage her engagement. "The yacht hit a swell! He lost his footing! I tried to reach him, Damian, I swear I did! It was dark, the water was freezing!"
"Do you expect us to believe a man falls from a yacht without a single distress call being made to the Coast Guard?" Damian asked, his deep voice slicing through her lies with cold precision. "Did the radio also suffer an accident that night?"
"I was in shock!" Dahlia cried, burying her face in her hands. "I didn't know what to do!"
"You knew exactly what to do," Walter said, leaning forward slightly, the golden light catching the deep lines of sorrow on his face.
The dining hall fell into an absolute, breathless silence. Fifty guests hung on every word, witnessing the brutal deconstruction of a murder plot.
"We were on the aft deck," Walter continued, his steady voice painting a vivid, horrifying picture in the quiet room. "I was checking the mooring lines. You came up behind me. You didn't slip. You didn't reach for me."
He paused, his eyes locking onto hers, forcing her to confront the monster she was.
"You pushed me overboard," Walter stated.
The words struck the table with undeniable finality.
"You watched me fall," Walter said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You stood at the railing, and you watched me fight the current until I was pulled under the wake. A fishing crew found me clinging to a buoy six hours later, half dead from hypothermia. It took me months to recover, months to track you down, while you spent my money and told my son I abandoned him."
May you like
"It's a lie!" Dahlia screamed, standing up and throwing her wine glass. It shattered against the marble floor, red wine splashing like blood across the cream tiles. "He's making it up because he's jealous! He couldn't provide for me! He was weak!"
"Is attempting murder your preferred method of filing for divorce, Dahlia?" Damian asked, his voice a lethal, freezing rumble as he stepped toward her.
