Chapter 3
The innocent, toddler-phrased exclamation shattered the fragile tension surrounding the polished walnut console. Elena hugged Maisie tightly, her own rosy cheeks flushed with absolute terror. She did not fully understand the depths of the cruelty possessed by the adults in this room, but she knew that Camille was a viper waiting to strike.
"Maisie, sweetie, stay right here with your bunny," Elena whispered urgently, pressing a trembling kiss to her soft curls. "I have to talk to Auntie Camille. Please, do not move from this spot. I need you to be a very brave girl for me. Can you do that? It is a very important job. Do not let her see you."
"Okay, Mommy Elena," Maisie nodded enthusiastically, clutching the fabric of her red velvet pinafore tightly against her chest. "I will be good. I will stay right here and watch the pretty lights. I am very brave. Daddy says I am brave."
Elena stood up, her breath hitching as she faced the fiancée. The towering Christmas tree sparked beside them, a brutal, physical reminder of the holiday joy that had been utterly destroyed.
Camille stepped closer, the luxurious burgundy velvet gown sweeping across the marble. In her manicured hand, she held a broad decorative sash, matching the fabric of her dress. Her eyes burned with a calculating, sociopathic malice.
Camille extended the broad sash toward Elena, her diamond earrings swinging slightly. Just behind her, Nathaniel Crowne was approaching from beside the Christmas tree, his tailored dark suit cutting a formidable silhouette through the crowded room.
Camille did not look at Nathaniel. She looked directly at Elena, her lips curling into a tight, controlling smile that failed entirely to reach her cold eyes. She positioned the broad decorative sash around Elena’s waist, right over the five-month pregnancy bump.
"Stand still," Camille commanded, her voice low and dripping with aristocratic venom as she gathered the loose ends of the fabric. "We are going to hide that disgusting mistake before the family portrait. We cannot have this filthy evidence ruining the aesthetics of my reception. The photographers are arriving soon."
The words dropped into the immediate vicinity like a live explosive charge. Elena’s fingers became entirely, horrifyingly still. The blood drained from her delicate face, leaving her fair skin a ghostly, splotchy white. Her breath caught violently in her throat.
Elena reached down with trembling fingers, instinctively trying to protect her stomach. She kept a steady, terrified gaze on Camille, fighting desperately to control a shallow, panicked breath. Nathaniel was just a few feet away now, but Elena was paralyzed by the threat Camille had leveled against her life and her child's life.
Camille gathered the loose ends of the sash, her knuckles turning white as she prepared to pull it brutally tight, intending to crush the bump against Elena's spine.
"Please," Elena begged, her voice cracking, completely terrified of making a scene but utterly unable to let her child be crushed. "Don't tighten it. Please, it will hurt the baby. I will stand in the back. I will leave the room entirely. I promise you will never have to see it."
"I told you to be quiet, you pathetic little creature," Camille hissed softly, preparing to pull the fabric with all her strength, completely unaware of the apex predator standing just inches away. "You do as I command, or you and the bastard will not survive the night. I will crush it out of you right now."
Before Camille could violently tighten the decorative sash, a small, cheerful voice broke through the unbearable tension.
Maisie stepped out from behind Elena’s rumpled white apron. The little girl looked at the sash, her young mind connecting the cruel action to the bizarre threats she had witnessed earlier in the day.
Maisie pointed a tiny finger directly toward Elena’s bump, and then looked up at Camille with absolute, innocent concern.
"Auntie, that’s Daddy’s baby!" Maisie announced clearly, her young American accent ringing across the polished marble floor. "You can't squish it! It has to grow big!"
The devastating impact of the child's truth struck the immediate area like a physical blow. The absolute stillness of Nathaniel Crowne sent an immediate, chilling ripple through the grand salon.
Nathaniel, who had been observing quietly, instantly stopped breathing. The cold, unyielding armor he wore as the mafia boss slipped for a fraction of a second. He moved with preternatural speed, his artistic negative-space tattoos blurring as his hands shot out.
Nathaniel immediately caught Camille’s hands before the sash could tighten.
May you like
The clinking of fine porcelain ceased entirely within his immediate radius, the silence spreading down the long salon until it consumed the entire grand space. One by one, every single dinner guest stopped eating and speaking. Fifty of the most dangerous men and women in the city turned their heads, all staring toward the Christmas tree.
Nathaniel’s dark, sweeping gaze moved slowly from the sash wrapped around the maid's stomach, directly to Elena's pale, terrified face. His sharp, angular jaw tightened, the muscles ticking beneath his extremely short stubble.
