Selma Brooks knelt near the old cellar hatch to blot a small wine spill

The sprawling mansion was a hive of quiet, lethal activity as Bennett carried his frail father up the sweeping marble staircase. The bright, luminous glow of the first floor gave way to the softer, more muted lighting of the private master wing. The warm golden hues of the wall sconces guided them past gilded mirrors and heavy silk curtains, leading them to the massive oak doors of Bennett’s personal suite.

He gently laid Frank down on the plush, king-sized bed, pulling the thick, expensive duvet up to his chin. The roaring marble fireplace in the corner of the room immediately began to cast a healing, elegant warmth over his pale skin.

Selma hurried into the adjoining master bathroom, retrieving warm, damp towels and a glass of fresh water. She worked with quiet, sophisticated efficiency, wiping the soot and grime from Frank's face and hands, helping him drink small, measured sips.

"Thank you, Selma," Frank whispered, his voice raspy but filled with immense gratitude. "You saved my life."

"I just did what was right, sir," Selma replied, her softly oval face flushing a delicate pink.

Bennett stood near the fireplace, watching the interaction in silence. He had removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat, looking slightly less formal but infinitely more dangerous. The loose strands of dark hair fell over his forehead, and his powerful shoulders leaned casually against the carved marble.

"Will you fetch the doctor immediately, Marcus?" Bennett asked his lieutenant, who stood at attention in the doorway.

"He is already on his way up the stairs, Boss," Marcus reported, stepping aside to allow an older man with a black medical bag into the room.

The doctor moved quickly to the bed, beginning a thorough examination of Frank. Bennett watched for a moment before turning his cold, perceptive eyes back to Marcus.

"Are our borders secured?" Bennett asked, stepping out into the hallway to speak privately with his underboss.

"Yes, Mr. Hale," Marcus nodded, his American accent crisp. "The entire estate is locked down. The guests have been cleared. But the Voss family will notice Celestine is missing by morning. Arthur Voss isn't going to wait for an explanation. This means full-scale war."

"Do the Vosses believe they can survive my wrath after harboring the woman who imprisoned my father?" Bennett asked, his deeply observant eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

"They have numbers, Boss. They control the western territories," Marcus warned.

"Are the weapons primed in the armory?" Bennett asked, adjusting his wristwatch with a calm, terrifying precision.

"Fully loaded and distributed to the men, sir."

"Will you ensure the perimeter is fortified with heavy artillery before dawn?" Bennett asked.

"Consider it done," Marcus bowed his head respectfully and hurried down the hall.

Bennett stepped back into the master suite. The doctor was finishing his examination, administering intravenous fluids to Frank.

"Will he recover, Doctor?" Bennett asked.

"He is severely malnourished and dehydrated, but his vitals are stabilizing," the doctor answered. "With proper rest and nutrition, he will make a full recovery, sir."

Bennett nodded, a profound relief washing over his angular face. The doctor packed his bag and quietly exited the room.