Chapter 7
The question hung in the cold, fluorescent air, a guillotine waiting to drop. Gavin swallowed hard, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood. He looked up at Alessandra’s beautiful, terrifyingly calm face, realizing that every second he delayed his answer only shortened his lifespan.
"Four... four years," Gavin choked out, his voice a pathetic, trembling rasp. He couldn't meet her eyes anymore. He stared at her polished heels. "He's four years old."
A low murmur rippled through the assembled capos standing in the perimeter. Four years. Gavin had fathered a child with his mistress before Tobin was even born. He had built a parallel life, funded entirely by Alessandra’s empire, and had the absolute audacity to bring that life into her home.
Alessandra didn't flinch. Her expression remained an impenetrable mask of cold marble. She slowly turned her head, her lethal gaze shifting from the broken man on the floor to the two women cowering against the concrete pillar.
Vanessa shrank under the intense scrutiny, her luxurious evening gown suddenly feeling like a burial shroud. She clutched her diamond jewelry, her fair skin practically translucent.
"You brought a bastard into my house," Alessandra stated, her voice smooth and devoid of any fluctuation. "You thought you could simply throw my son into the garage, claim his bedroom, and I would be too busy running the council to notice?"
"He is the true heir!" Sybil shrieked suddenly, her deeply ingrained arrogance temporarily overriding her terror. The sixty-five-year-old matriarch stepped forward, her hands shaking as she pointed a manicured finger at Alessandra. "Gavin’s bloodline deserves better than the weak child you produced! Vanessa gave him a strong son! It was only a matter of time before Gavin took his rightful place at the head of the table."
The absolute silence that followed Sybil’s outburst was deafening. The bodyguards actually took a collective step away from the older woman, recognizing a suicide mission when they saw one.
Alessandra slowly tilted her head, observing Sybil as one might observe a particularly stupid insect.
"My mother-in-law," Alessandra said softly, the title sounding like a curse. "You have lived a very comfortable life in the penthouse I paid for, wearing the pearls I bought."
Alessandra took a slow, measured step toward Sybil. The older woman’s false bravado shattered instantly, and she scrambled backward until her back hit the concrete wall.
"Gavin doesn't have a rightful place," Alessandra continued, her voice dropping into a chilling cadence. "Gavin is a parasite who wears the tuxedos I purchase for him. He has no power. He has absolutely nothing but the illusion of importance that I graciously allowed him to project."
She stopped just inches from Sybil’s face.
"And you," Alessandra whispered, her eyes dark and merciless. "You encouraged this delusion. You helped them lock my three-year-old son in a concrete garage for nine hours."
"Alessandra, please," Vanessa whimpered from the side, tears streaming down her face. "We just wanted a family. We were going to send Tobin to a boarding school. We weren't going to hurt him."
May you like
Alessandra didn't even look at the mistress. She raised her right hand, signaling the capos.
"Silence her," Alessandra commanded.
