Chapter 3
The silence in the opulent reception room stretched until it felt like a physical weight pressing against the walls. Not a single glass clinked; not a single breath was drawn too loudly. The elite of the criminal underworld watched with bated breath as Callan Ashford stood holding the hand of his maid, his son clinging to her skirts, while his fiancée withered under his glacial stare.
"Callan, you're making a scene," Simone whispered, her voice losing its previous arrogance, replaced by a desperate, frantic edge. She took a step toward him, her emerald satin gown rustling loudly. "The boy is confused. He calls her that because she coddles him. And she—she is just a maid. Let go of her."
"A maid," Callan repeated, the syllables rolling off his tongue like shattered glass. His thumb instinctively brushed against the back of Vera’s trembling hand, feeling the delicate bones beneath her fair skin. "You burned her yesterday over a broken glass?"
"It was a minor correction!" Simone hissed, looking around at the staring guests. "For God's sake, Callan, she broke a Baccarat crystal flute! She has to learn respect. My family would never tolerate such insubordination in our home."
"This is not the Drake household," Callan said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal timber that sent shivers down Vera's spine. "And in my home, we do not torture the women who care for my son."
Vera tried to pull her hand back, suddenly terrified of the impending fallout. A war between the Ashfords and the Drakes could drown the city in blood, and she was entirely responsible. "Mr. Ashford, please, it's fine. I—I deserved it. I was clumsy."
"Quiet, Vera," Callan commanded softly, though there was no anger directed at her. He squeezed her hand gently, anchoring her in place. He looked down at Jude, who was still hugging Vera’s waist. "Jude, go to your room. Take your mother with you."
The entire room seemed to gasp collectively. Simone’s face drained of all color, leaving her red lipstick looking like a fresh wound.
"Her?" Simone shrieked, finally losing her composed facade. "You just called that filthy, clumsy servant his mother?"
"Jude calls her Mommy because she is the only one in this house who shows him a shred of genuine warmth," Callan replied coldly. "Go, Jude."
"Come on, Mommy," Jude said cheerfully, completely oblivious to the mafia politics exploding around him. He took Vera’s free hand and began to pull her toward the grand staircase.
Vera looked back at Callan, her expressive eyes wide with a mixture of profound gratitude and sheer terror. Callan gave her a single, definitive nod. As Vera let Jude lead her away, clutching the banister of the sweeping marble staircase, she heard Callan’s voice echo behind her.
May you like
"The reception is over," Callan announced to the room. "Everyone, get out. Simone, you and I are going to my office. Now."
Vera’s heart pounded against her ribs as she hurried up the stairs. She knew, with absolute certainty, that her life had just irreversibly changed. The fragile peace of the Ashford mansion was shattered, and the storm was just beginning.
