Chapter 8
Evelyn stepped briefly out of the dining hall, signaling to the heavily armed men stationed in the opulent foyer. Within seconds, two massive enforcers in dark suits marched into the room. They took one look at the weeping woman on the floor in her ruined satin gown and immediately understood the gravity of the situation. They stood silently behind Lisette, awaiting their boss’s final command.
Lisette looked over her shoulder at the towering men, pure, unadulterated terror seizing her throat. She scrambled backward again, but there was nowhere left to run. She was pinned between the heavy mahogany table and the armed guards of the Whitmore syndicate.
“Damon, please,” Lisette begged, her voice reduced to a pathetic, raspy whisper. Her pristine makeup was entirely destroyed, her engagement ring scraping loudly against the floorboards as she clutched her hands together in prayer. “I’ll disappear. You will never see me again. I swear on my life.”
Damon Whitmore stood perfectly still, his cold, observant eyes locked onto hers with the weight of a judge handing down a final sentence. The warm, golden light of the chandeliers above felt like a distant, mocking memory, replaced entirely by the cold, calculated execution of mafia justice.
“Has your life ever possessed enough value to bargain with, Lisette? Do you truly believe your promises hold any currency in my home after you attempted to murder my bloodline?”
Lisette sobbed uncontrollably, her head hanging in absolute defeat. “I didn't want to die! I just wanted to be important! I wanted to be a queen!”
“And did my son wish to choke on broken glass at his own dinner table so you could wear a crown?” Damon asked, his tone dropping to a lethal hum that carried the full weight of a father's wrath. “Do you believe your tears are a fair trade for the innocent life you tried to steal?”
Lisette couldn't answer. She simply wept, her body trembling violently as the reality of her impending death paralyzed her vocal cords.
Evelyn watched from the doorway, her hands folded tightly in front of her white apron. She felt no pity for the woman on the floor. Anyone who would maliciously target a seven-year-old child deserved exactly what Damon Whitmore was about to deliver.
Damon gave a microscopic nod to his men.
“Will you take this traitor down to the soundproof basement? Will you ensure she has plenty of time to reflect on her actions before you extract the Marzano names from her mind?”
The enforcers moved with ruthless efficiency. One of them reached down, gripping Lisette by her unbroken arm with bruising force and hauling her roughly to her feet. The sculpted satin of her evening gown tore loudly against the edge of a velvet chair.
Lisette fought like a trapped animal, kicking her expensive heels against their shins, but her efforts were utterly useless against the hardened men of the syndicate.
“No! No, please! Damon!” Lisette shrieked, her diamond earrings swinging wildly as she was dragged backward toward the service doors. “They’ll kill you! The Marzanos will kill you both!”
Damon did not flinch. He watched her disappear into the shadows of the hallway, his deep, quiet voice cutting through her hysterical screams effortlessly.
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“Have you ever known me to leave a war unfinished, Lisette?”
The heavy service doors slammed shut, cutting off her screams entirely. The grand dining hall was suddenly very quiet, smelling strongly of fear and cold wax.
