Chapter 3
The vast dining hall felt cavernous and oppressive without the guests. The only sounds remaining were the ragged, shallow breaths of Lisette Shaw and the distant hum of the mansion's massive generator. Lisette paced the length of the head table, her sculpted satin gown rustling aggressively against the floorboards. She cast venomous glances at Evelyn, clearly searching for a scapegoat to bear the weight of Damon's terrifying interrogation.
“She is trying to destroy us, Damon,” Lisette hissed, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the beautiful housemaid. “Look at her! She cleans our floors and serves our meals, and she thinks she can manipulate her way into your good graces by staging this little rescue! She probably planted the glass herself just to play the hero!”
Evelyn did not flinch under the verbal assault. She kept one hand resting gently on Alfie’s shoulder, providing a silent anchor for the trusting boy. Her elegantly gathered soft low bun remained flawless, her posture radiating a polished dignity that starkly contrasted with Lisette’s rapidly unraveling composure.
“I have not touched the dessert plates since they left the kitchen, Miss Shaw,” Evelyn stated, her American accent crisp and steady despite the pounding of her heart. “But I did observe you lingering by the dessert cart in the hallway before service began.”
Lisette let out a dramatic, breathless gasp, her fair, rosy skin turning entirely pale. “You lying bitch! I was powdering my nose! Damon, she is a liar! She should be dragged out of this house and thrown onto the street this instant!”
Damon kept his broad back turned to Lisette for a long moment. He looked down at Evelyn, his cold, observant eyes scanning her softly oval face. He studied her expression, searching for any microscopic sign of deception. He found only resolute honesty. He slowly turned his head, his sharp jaw casting a dark shadow over his collar. The small neck tattoo peeked out ominously from above his white shirt.
“Have I ever asked for your input on the management of my household staff, Lisette? Do you feel you hold the power to dismiss my employees while I am standing in the room?”
Lisette swallowed hard, taking a physical step back as Damon’s towering frame shifted toward her. “I am your fiancée, Damon. I am going to be your wife. I will not stand by while a maid attempts to frame me for murder!”
“Will you close your mouth until I ask you a direct question?” Damon interrupted, his deep, quiet voice echoing with absolute, freezing authority.
Lisette’s mouth snapped shut. She realized for the first time that the man she had planned to manipulate was not giving her the benefit of the doubt. The engagement ring on her finger suddenly felt like a heavy shackle.
Damon turned his attention back to the young boy sitting rigidly in his chair. Alfie’s small hands were resting on the table, dangerously close to the contaminated cake. The boy was staring at his plate, thoroughly confused by the sudden aggression of the woman who had smiled at him all evening.
Damon crouched down slowly, his tailored dark suit pulling tight across his powerful shoulders. He brought himself down to eye level with his son, his expression softening just a fraction, though his voice remained structured in its rigid questioning.
“Why did she tell you the glass was candy, Alfie? Did she whisper this to you when I was speaking with the guests?”
Alfie nodded, his lower lip quivering slightly. “Yes, Dad. She said it was a special secret dessert just for me. She said if I ate it all, I would get a prize.”
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Damon remained perfectly still in his crouched position. He didn't blink. The silence stretched out, thick and suffocating, before he stood up and turned his lethal gaze back to his fiancée.
“Do you possess a death wish, Lisette? Would you attempt to poison my bloodline right in front of my face and expect to survive the night?”
