Chapter 2
The heavy silk curtains framing the tall windows seemed to absorb the suffocating tension radiating from Cora as she stood by the console. Her footsteps were virtually silent on the thick carpet, her slender, graceful proportions moving with a practiced, mechanical efficiency. She looked over her shoulder toward the head table.
Noah sat rigidly in his champagne velvet chair, dressed in a cream shirt, a dark waistcoat, and polished shoes. The boy’s fair skin was exceptionally pale, his rosy cheeks devoid of color. He looked incredibly small and fragile amidst the towering figures of the underworld elite. Since his mother, Helena, had supposedly died three months ago, the boy had withdrawn completely, speaking only in terrified whispers to Cora when Viviana was not around.
"Make sure the water glasses are completely full, Cora," the head butler murmured as he passed her.
"I will take care of it immediately," Cora whispered, her voice trembling slightly beneath her breath.
She took a deep breath, slipping her hand into her apron pocket to feel the soft, worn fabric of the plush rabbit. The small recordable voice box hidden inside its chest felt as heavy as a brick of lead. She knew the extreme danger of crossing Viviana Shaw, a woman whose family commanded a powerful syndicate of their own. But the maternal instinct burning in Cora's chest, forged through months of protecting the grieving child, obliterated her fear. She could not let Noah suffer in silence any longer.
Cora stepped away from the console and moved toward the head table. The soft supplementary lighting clearly revealed every face in the room, offering no shadows for her to hide in.
"Is the boy feeling unwell tonight?" a nearby guest asked Viviana, noticing Noah's pale complexion.
"Oh, he is just overwhelmed by the crowd," Viviana answered, her smile never wavering as she reached across the polished walnut table to adjust a silver spoon. "He has always been a rather delicate child. We are working on building his confidence."
"Do you believe forcing him into a crowded room builds confidence, Viviana?" Elliot asked quietly, his cold, perceptive eyes shifting toward his fiancée.
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"It is exposure therapy, darling," Viviana replied smoothly. "He cannot hide in his room forever."
Cora reached the table, stopping directly beside Noah. The little boy looked up at her, his eyes wide with a quiet, desperate plea for comfort. Without a word, Cora reached into her pocket and withdrew the worn plush rabbit. She gently placed the toy directly beside Noah’s gold-rimmed dessert plate, hoping the familiar object would offer him a shred of solace before the storm broke.
