Chapter 5
The crackling of the ornate marble fireplace seemed deafening in the vast, empty dining room. Coralie’s face, previously flushed with wine and the triumph of the evening, drained of all color until her rosy skin turned the shade of ash. She clutched the fabric of her midnight-blue gown, her hands trembling violently.
"I didn't touch her!" Coralie cried out, her voice shrill and desperate, bouncing off the ivory wall panels. "She was unstable, Damon! You know she was! She had been drinking that night! I tried to grab her hand, but she slipped from my grasp!"
Damon did not break eye contact with her. He slowly raised his tattooed hand, resting his knuckles on the polished walnut table. The silence stretched until it became agonizing.
"Do you think my memory is as fragile as your lies?" Damon asked. His measured pauses carried the weight of a death sentence. "Did I not see the bruises on her arms before the mortician covered them up?"
Coralie stepped backward, her heel catching on the edge of an abandoned velvet chair. "She bruised easily! You are letting a traumatized child dictate the truth! He’s confused! The grief has driven him mad, Damon!"
Sylvie stood her ground, though her knees felt weak. She kept her hands gently resting on Eli's small shoulders, refusing to defend herself against the hysterical accusations Coralie had thrown earlier. The truth was already standing in the room; it didn't need her protection.
"Do you believe a child forgets the face of the monster who destroyed his world?" Damon inquired, stepping slowly around the edge of the table, his broad shoulders dominating the space. "Is burying a mother the only way you could secure a ring?"
"It wasn't like that!" Coralie shrieked, losing her elegant manners entirely. "She was holding you back! She hated the business! She was going to leave you and take him with her! I am strong enough to stand beside a king! I did it for us!"
The confession tumbled from her lips in a rush of panicked adrenaline. She clamped her hands over her mouth the second the words escaped, realizing she had just admitted to the murder of the mafia boss's wife.
"Did you think I would crown a woman whose hands are stained with the blood of my family?" Damon asked, taking another slow, deliberate step toward her.
"You need me!" Coralie sobbed, real tears of panic finally spilling over her cheeks as she backed away. "My family brings you the southern distribution lines! We built an empire together! If you touch me, my father will start a war that will burn this city to the ground!"
"Do you think the threat of a war frightens me more than a traitor sleeping in my bed?" Damon asked, tilting his head slightly, the cold, perceptive eyes narrowing into dark, lethal slits.
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He didn't wait for her to process the absolute lack of mercy in his gaze. He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored dark suit, his refined hand tattoos catching the golden light, and withdrew a heavy, encrypted mobile phone.
"Are you waiting in the grand foyer, Marcus?" Damon asked into the receiver.
