Chapter 2
The absolute stillness radiating from the head of the table became a physical weight in the dining room. Harlan Westbrook didn't reach for the wineglass. He simply stared at the housemaid's trembling hand. The deep, low register of his voice was something he reserved for lethal situations, and his exclusive use of questions was designed to dismantle a person's defenses piece by piece.
Seraphina realized the shift in his focus immediately. She met Harlan’s cold, observant eyes and offered a light, unbothered expression.
"She barely had a sip," Seraphina said smoothly.
She gave a small, dismissive laugh that sounded like crystal clinking together—beautiful, but entirely empty. A small, indulgent smile lifted her mouth, as though Anya’s distress was merely an inconvenience to the engagement dinner. Her eyes, however, searched his masculine features entirely too closely, desperate for his acceptance of her statement.
After delivering the bizarre reassurance, Seraphina turned her head slightly. She directed a brief, venomous warning glance toward Anya—a silent promise of severe retribution if the maid dared to speak another word.
Harlan didn't respond to Seraphina’s laughter. He followed the sharp glance his fiancée shot at the maid, reading the silent threat perfectly. He slowly turned his head, looking directly into Anya’s fearful eyes.
"Anya," Harlan murmured. His voice was deep, quiet, and incredibly deliberate, vibrating through the room. "A sip of what?"
The effect was instantaneous. Every single guest at the sprawling white damask tables stopped eating. Conversations died mid-sentence. Forks were lowered slowly to gold-rimmed porcelain plates. Fifty pairs of eyes turned silently toward the head of the table, recognizing the catastrophic shift in the atmosphere. A direct question from Harlan Westbrook during a formal engagement dinner was an absolute law.
Harlan waited without looking away from the maid. His tailored dark suit absorbed the golden light as he stood perfectly still, offering no comfort and no warning.
Anya swallowed hard, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She drew a shallow breath, her fingers curling tightly against the pristine white fabric of her apron. She knew the power Seraphina wielded in the mansion. She knew the consequences of stepping out of line. But she also looked at the man standing beside her, realizing that he was completely unaware of the danger his fiancée had orchestrated.
Anya held Harlan’s terrifying gaze.
Her expressive inner brows lifted slightly in a gesture of profound, helpless sadness. Moisture gathered rapidly along her lower eyelids, catching the bright, luminous lighting of the room. She was terrified of what speaking the truth was going to cost her, but she refused to let him drink the wine.
"She made me test your wine," Anya whispered.
May you like
Her voice was fragile but incredibly clear. It cut through the silent room like a razor blade. After speaking the forbidden truth, her chin lowered slightly, as though she fully expected to be severely reprimanded for daring to tell him.
The revelation dropped like a live grenade into the center of the luxurious interior. The air in the room seemed to shatter. Capos who had spent their lives dealing in extreme violence stiffened in their ivory upholstered chairs.
