Chapter 6
The sheer audacity of the motive, delivered in the presence of the mafia boss and his entire syndicate, was staggering. Bianca hadn't just imprisoned the matriarch; she had done it to silence the only voice of dissent regarding her ascension to the throne.
"That is an outrageous lie!" Bianca shouted, stepping forward, her burgundy velvet gown swishing violently. The aristocratic polish was completely gone. "She is a lying, senile old woman trying to ruin our evening, Gideon! She locked herself in there! She is trying to turn you against me to extort this family!"
Gideon did not respond to Bianca. He did not even turn his head to acknowledge her frantic, venomous excuses. His unwavering, intense focus remained entirely on his mother.
Moving with profound, measured grace, Gideon reached out his heavily tattooed hand. He gently took Eleanor’s trembling hand in his own, his large fingers enveloping hers with absolute, undeniable protection. He guided Eleanor safely across the threshold of the hidden door, pulling her out of the shadows and into the warm golden light of the salon.
Sophie remained standing steadfastly beside Eleanor, her white ruffled headband slightly crooked, acting as a gentle, supportive presence for the shaken matriarch.
Toby, entirely unaware of the catastrophic betrayal he had just exposed, waddled closer to the group. The toddler in the cream reindeer sweater looked up at his grandmother with wide, trusting eyes. He reached out with his small hands and proudly offered his plush snowman toward Eleanor, hoping to comfort her.
"Nana's ghost is gone," Toby announced cheerfully, his tiny dimples showing as he smiled.
Eleanor let out a soft, broken sob, reaching down with her free hand to gently touch the plush toy and stroke her grandson's soft curls.
Gideon stood between his family and the rest of the room. The concealed door remained wide open behind them, a gaping, dark maw that served as undeniable physical evidence of the crime.
Only then did Gideon slowly turn his head toward Bianca.
His sharp, angular jaw was set in stone. The cold, unyielding armor of the mafia boss slammed firmly into place. He turned a cold, unwavering gaze toward Bianca, locking the manipulative woman in a silent, terrifying promise of absolute retribution.
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Under the weight of that lethal, promising stare, Bianca’s defensive smile completely disappeared. The color drained from her fair, rosy face as she realized her meticulously crafted social standing had just been obliterated. She backed away until her spine hit the edge of a carved walnut console, realizing with a sinking horror that the political immunity she had relied upon was entirely useless inside the walls of the Hale estate.
"Gideon, you must listen to reason," Bianca pleaded, her voice trembling for the first time that evening.
