Chapter 2
The absolute stillness of Dominic Ashford sent an immediate, chilling ripple through the grand banquet hall. The clinking of crystal glasses and the soft scraping of silver against gold-rimmed porcelain ceased entirely. One by one, every single dinner guest stopped eating and speaking, turning their heads toward the head of the table. The warm golden light cascading from the chandeliers seemed to freeze in the air, highlighting the sudden, suffocating tension that had gripped the room.
Dominic did not look at the elite guests, nor did he look at his fiancée sitting beside him. He slowly turned his head, his dark, sweeping gaze moving from the open silver pillbox on the table to Ada’s delicate face. The cold, unyielding armor he wore as the mafia boss slipped for a fraction of a second, revealing a profound, urgent questioning.
"Ada," Dominic said, his deep, controlled voice slicing through the heavy silence of the room like a physical blade. "Where’s Mother’s heart medicine?"
The question hung in the bright, luminous air, demanding an answer that would dictate the survival of everyone seated near the head table. Margaret’s medication was not a trivial matter; it was the only thing keeping the matriarch’s failing heart beating through the stressful holiday season. For it to be missing—replaced by a child's candy—was a breach of security that bordered on an assassination attempt.
Ada stood frozen, her delicate features pale with residual shock. The entire syndicate was staring at her. She felt the crushing weight of their gazes, but the only eyes that mattered were the ones burning into hers. She met Dominic’s eyes, refusing to look away, despite the absolute terror racing through her veins.
"I do not know, Mr. Ashford," Ada answered, her voice shaking but resolute, carrying clearly across the silent room. "I only brought the dessert tray from the kitchen. I have not touched Mrs. Ashford's personal items."
"Someone in this house has touched them," Dominic stated slowly, the dangerous, vibrating cadence of his voice leaving no room for hesitation. "My mother requires that medication to survive the night. I will ask the room once more before I lock the doors. Where is the medicine?"
The guests exchanged terrified, silent glances. Capos shifted uncomfortably in their velvet dining chairs. No one dared to breathe too loudly, let alone speak. The sheer, masculine power radiating from Dominic's broad shoulders promised absolute destruction for whoever was responsible.
Margaret looked down at the silver pillbox, her poor vision finally registering the striped candies. Her hands began to tremble, and she clutched her soft cardigan tightly against her chest. "Dominic, please," she whispered weakly. "Perhaps I simply filled it from the wrong jar in the pantry. My eyes are not what they used to be."
May you like
"You did not fill it with candy, Mother," Dominic replied, his tone softening only marginally as he addressed her. "You are meticulous with your health. Someone deliberately emptied this box."
He looked back at the crowd, the artistic tattoos on his hands flexing as he gripped the edge of the carved walnut table. "If the person responsible does not step forward in the next ten seconds, I will assume this is a coordinated attack on my family."
