Chapter 7
The profound, ringing silence of the grand dining room settled heavily over the remaining three figures. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to cast their warm golden light over the abandoned gold-rimmed porcelain and half-empty crystal wine glasses. The opulent space, designed for celebration, now felt like a war room.
Keaton stood silently for a moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, controlled breath. The betrayal was absolute, the upcoming syndicate war with Odessa’s father inevitable, but the immediate, toxic sickness within his home had been surgically removed. Now, he had to secure his daughter.
He turned his body, his polished leather shoes pivoting seamlessly on the thick rug, and walked toward the two figures remaining by the head table.
Audra was kneeling on the floor, holding Willa tightly in her arms. The sophisticated black maid dress contrasted sharply with the girl’s formal party dress. Willa had buried her face in the crook of Audra’s neck, her small body trembling from the shouting and the sudden violence of Odessa’s removal. Audra was gently stroking the child's hair, her softly oval face etched with deep, maternal relief.
Keaton stopped beside them, his imposing, masculine frame casting a protective shadow over the housemaid and his daughter.
"Are you unharmed, Willa?" Keaton asked, his deep voice softening significantly, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Willa turned her head, her fair, rosy cheeks stained with fresh tears. She looked at the towering mafia boss, her eyes searching for reassurance. "I'm sorry, Daddy. Are you going to be mad at me?"
"Would I ever be angry with you for telling me the truth about your mother?" Keaton asked, reaching out to gently cup the girl’s cheek.
Willa sniffled, leaning into her father's large, tattooed hand. "No."
"Are you a brave girl?" Keaton asked, his thumb brushing away a tear.
"Yes," Willa nodded, her small chin trembling.
Keaton shifted his gaze to Audra. The beautiful housemaid was watching him, her expressive brows drawn together in quiet empathy. She had risked her job, her physical safety, and her life by exposing the murder and standing against the fiancée of a mafia boss. The fierce loyalty she had displayed was a rare, precious commodity in Keaton's dark, violent world.
"Are you injured, Audra?" Keaton asked, his cold, perceptive eyes scanning her delicate features.
"No, Mr. Vale," Audra answered softly, her elegant posture unwavering even as she knelt on the floor. "I am perfectly fine."
"Will you take Willa up to the secure wing and stay with her until I come for you?" Keaton asked, holding her gaze with an intensity that sent a sudden, warm flutter through Audra’s chest.
"Yes, Mr. Vale," Audra replied, her rosy cheeks flushing slightly under his intense focus.
Keaton stood up, watching as the beautiful housemaid took his daughter's hand and led her out of the luminous dining room through a discrete service door.
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He stood alone in the bright, golden light, his mind racing. The revelation was horrifying, but a dark, terrifying sliver of hope began to gnaw at his chest. The drug slowed the heart. The burial was rushed. Was it possible she hadn't suffocated immediately?
"Will you assemble the men and meet me at the family mausoleum immediately?" Keaton asked into his radio, his voice shaking with a dangerous, desperate energy. "Shall we find out if the earth actually claimed my wife?"
