Chapter 4
The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned gold-rimmed porcelain and half-empty crystal wine glasses. The opulent space, designed for a lavish celebration, now felt like a gilded execution chamber.
Sienna backed away from the head table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the sculpted satin of her expensive gown. Her diamond earrings shook as she wept, her carefully constructed facade entirely destroyed.
“Desmond, you cannot do this,” Sienna sobbed, her chest heaving. “My family arranged this marriage! We are supposed to unite our syndicates! Are you going to throw all of that away because of a hallucinating woman in a cellar and a lying maid?”
Desmond stood immovably in his dark three-piece suit. He slowly turned his head, his handsome, angular face looking down at Elsie.
“Can you lead me to this locked room, Elsie?” Desmond asked, his deep voice softening only slightly as he addressed the housemaid.
Elsie swallowed hard, wiping a stray tear from her delicate cheekbone. She nodded, her expressive brows drawn together in quiet determination. “Yes, Mr. Ashcroft. It’s in the deepest sub-basement, past the old wine cellars. She keeps the only key on her person.”
Desmond shifted his cold eyes back to his fiancée. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to bristle with barely contained violence.
“Will you hand me the key, Sienna, or must I cut it from your body?” Desmond asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. His polished leather shoes clicked ominously against the floor.
“I don't have it!” Sienna shrieked, tears of desperate rage filling her eyes. “I threw it away! You can't go down there, Desmond! It's a biohazard! The woman is violently ill!”
“If she is violently ill, why hasn't a doctor been summoned to my estate?” Desmond inquired, taking another slow step forward, forcing Sienna to back up until her spine hit the carved marble fireplace.
“I was trying to protect you!” Sienna pleaded, reaching out to grasp the lapel of his tailored suit. “I didn't want you exposed to her sickness! I was handling it!”
“Did you think I would never check the cellars of my own estate?” Desmond asked.
He looked down at the trembling woman clinging to his suit. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only the truth.
“Are you prepared to walk down those stairs voluntarily, or must I drag you by your hair?” Desmond asked.
Sienna gasped, her fair skin turning entirely translucent. She dropped her hands, her eyes wide with primal terror. She knew the stories of what Desmond Ashcroft did to traitors within his syndicate.
“I will walk,” Sienna choked out, the venom finally breaking through her tears as self-preservation took over.
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“Will you show us the way, Elsie?” Desmond asked, stepping back to allow the housemaid to lead.
Elsie turned and walked toward the discreet service doors at the back of the dining hall, her short A-line skirt swishing softly. Desmond followed close behind, his powerful shoulders blocking any chance of Sienna's escape. As they descended into the dark, damp belly of the mansion, the warm golden light of the chandeliers faded into shadows, leading them straight toward the ghosts of Desmond’s past.
