Chapter 7
The confession hung heavily in the air, shifting the dynamics of the room from a domestic nightmare to a full-scale mafia war. Lisette Shaw, realizing she had just signed her own death warrant, completely abandoned any pretense of innocence or love. Desperation fueled a sudden, vicious counterattack.
“They promised me protection!” Lisette shrieked, her voice echoing shrilly in the vast dining hall. Her fair, rosy skin was now a splotchy, panicked red. “You were always so cold, Damon! You gave me diamonds and dresses, but you never gave me power! The Marzanos promised me a seat at the table once you and your brat were out of the way!”
Evelyn watched the exchange with a mixture of horror and fascination. The beautiful housemaid remained standing near the oak doors, fully aware that she was witnessing the inner workings of the criminal underworld unraveling before her very eyes.
Damon did not react to Lisette's screaming. He simply straightened his posture, his powerful shoulders squared as he looked down at the pathetic, ruined woman on his floor.
“Did you genuinely believe the Marzano family would honor a deal with a traitor, Lisette? Did you think a syndicate built on betrayal would allow a weak, cowardly poisoner to sit at their table?”
“They respected me!” she spat, her diamond earrings swinging wildly as she glared at him. “They knew I was the only one who could get close to him! I was their inside man! If you touch me, Damon, they will burn this mansion to the ground by morning!”
Damon let out a very low, almost imperceptible hum of amusement. It was the darkest, most terrifying sound Evelyn had ever heard. He reached inside his tailored dark suit, his tattooed fingers wrapping around the cold steel of a heavy silver lighter. He flicked it open and shut, the rhythmic metallic click acting as a countdown timer for Lisette's life.
“Do you honestly believe I fear the Marzano family? Do you think I have not spent the last five years waiting for them to make exactly this kind of miscalculation?”
Lisette swallowed hard, her chest heaving. The confidence she had briefly found in her alliance evaporated under the absolute freezing contempt in Damon's eyes.
“I can give you their names,” Lisette whispered, reverting to a desperate bargain. “I can tell you exactly who I spoke to. I know where their safe houses are, Damon. Just let me walk away. Let me leave the city.”
Damon stopped clicking the lighter. He pocketed it slowly, his expression entirely devoid of mercy. He turned his high-bridged nose toward Evelyn, acknowledging the housemaid's presence with a chilling calmness.
“Evelyn. Would you be so kind as to fetch my personal enforcers from the hallway? Do you think they have waited long enough to clean up this garbage?”
Evelyn nodded, her softly oval face tight with anticipation. “Right away, Mr. Whitmore.”
As Evelyn opened the heavy oak doors, Lisette lunged forward, her hands clawing desperately toward Damon's polished leather shoes. “No! Please, Damon! I loved you! I did love you in the beginning! You have to spare me! I am your fiancée!”
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Damon stepped back smoothly, refusing to let her touch his shoes. His thick, wavy hair cast shadows over his forehead as he looked down at her.
“Does an engagement ring grant you immunity from my wrath, Lisette? Or did you simply mistake my wealth for a weakness you could exploit?”
