Chapter 4
The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to bathe the room in their bright, airy light, but the engagement dinner had fundamentally shattered. The thirty elite guests remained paralyzed in their velvet chairs, watching the confrontation unfold with breathless terror.
Rosalind’s hand shook violently against the white damask tablecloth. She pulled her fingers away from the sealed envelope as if the paper had suddenly caught fire. Her champagne satin evening gown rustled loudly in the suffocating quiet of the room.
"Everett, please, you are embarrassing me in front of our friends," Rosalind pleaded, her American accent losing its confident melody. "We can discuss the maid's wages in private. Let's just sit down and enjoy the dessert."
"Is my son's safety a private matter to be swept under the rug?" Everett asked, his towering, masculine frame unmoving.
"Of course not!" Rosalind cried, her fair skin flushing a mottled, angry red. "I am going to be his mother! I care about him! But you are making a massive scene over a servant!"
"Do you believe the title of mother is earned through titles, or through actions?" Everett asked.
He did not raise his voice, yet the sheer, commanding authority in his tone resonated off the carved walnut paneling. He looked down at the envelope, then back up to her pale, terrified face.
"Will you slide that envelope across the table to the woman who earned it?" Everett asked.
Rosalind gasped, tears of humiliated rage filling her eyes. She looked at the prominent guests, realizing her reign over the city's high society was dissolving before her very eyes. "You cannot do this to me. My family brings you the northern shipping routes. You need this alliance, Everett."
"Do I look like a man who tolerates extortion in his own home for the sake of a shipping route?" Everett asked.
Trembling, completely stripped of her power, Rosalind placed her manicured fingers on the envelope and slowly pushed it across the polished wood. It stopped near Everett’s hand.
"Are you going to apologize to her?" Everett asked, his cold, perceptive eyes narrowing into lethal slits.
"I will not apologize to a maid!" Rosalind shrieked, her composure breaking completely. "I am a Vance! I will not demean myself for the help!"
"Will you find your own way to the door, or shall my men assist you?" Everett asked.
The question hit the room with the force of a physical blow. The engagement was officially broken.
Rosalind stared at him in absolute horror. She ripped the heavy diamond engagement ring from her finger and threw it violently onto the table. It clattered against a gold-rimmed porcelain plate. She turned on her heel and marched away, her satin gown dragging heavily behind her as she fled the luminous, golden room.
Once the heavy doors slammed shut behind her, Everett turned his attention to the silent, frozen crowd of elites.
"Have you all finished your meals?" Everett asked the room at large.
The dismissal was absolute. Chairs scraped violently against the marble floors as the guests practically scrambled to their feet. There were no polite farewells. They grabbed their coats and rushed past the marble columns, desperate to escape the mafia boss's wrath.
Within two minutes, the grand dining hall was entirely empty, leaving only Everett, Theo, and Clara standing in the warm, bright light.
May you like
Clara stood trembling, her expressive brows drawn together in overwhelming disbelief. She looked up at the movie-star handsome man who had just thrown away an empire for her dignity.
"Are you frightened of me, Clara?" Everett asked quietly, turning his broad shoulders toward her.
