Chapter 5
The opulent grand foyer was suffocatingly quiet. The ivory candles burning in their glass hurricane holders seemed to cast harsh, judgmental shadows over Bianca’s burgundy velvet gown. The polished public smile that usually charmed the syndicate members had completely evaporated, leaving behind the faint, terrifying cracks of cornered panic.
Mara felt the crushing weight of fifty gazes, but the only eyes that mattered were the ones burning into hers. The mafia boss’s dark, intense stare was demanding absolute honesty. She knew that answering this question could easily seal her death warrant if the boss chose to believe his high-society fiancée over a disheveled servant.
Tears gathered heavily along Mara’s lower eyelids, making her highly expressive, clear eyes shine brilliantly in the golden light. She steadied a trembling breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly against her rumpled white apron. Her fingers continued to stroke the massive head of the Rottweiler, drawing comfort from the animal's steadfast presence.
She faced Ethan, drawing on a well of courage she didn't know she possessed. Her eyes filled with restrained tears, but she answered without raising the volume of her voice, keeping her tone incredibly quiet, yet carrying a devastating, undeniable truth that sliced through the silent room.
"Bianca starves him," Mara stated, her American accent unwavering. "I feed him."
The devastating confession dropped onto the polished marble floor like toxic acid. Murmurs of absolute shock and outrage rippled through the syndicate members. The room was suddenly paralyzed. The woman destined to be the queen of the Vale syndicate had just been publicly accused of systematically starving the boss's most trusted guard dog, and deliberately attempting to use the hungry animal as a weapon against a household servant.
"That is an outrageous lie!" Bianca shouted, stepping forward, her diamond earrings swinging wildly. The aristocratic polish was completely gone. "She is a lying whore trying to ruin our evening, Ethan! I have never neglected that animal! She is trying to turn you against me to extort this family! The dog is simply gluttonous!"
"Do you expect me to accept the premise that my four-year-old guard dog and my son conspired to invent such a specific, treacherous lie, Bianca?" Ethan asked, his deep voice effortlessly drowning out her frantic excuses.
"He is a toddler, Ethan!" Bianca cried, pointing a shaking finger at Teddy. "Children have vivid imaginations! He is confused! You cannot take the word of a confused boy and a lying maid over your future wife!"
"Is it your custom to blame my son for the treacherous, psychopathic optics that you orchestrated in my own home?" Ethan asked, his tone so terrifyingly calm that several guests physically recoiled.
"I am protecting this family's image!" Bianca shrieked defensively, slamming her manicured hands against her burgundy velvet gown. "She is overstepping her boundaries! She is constantly coddling the boy! I had to assert dominance to remind the staff of their place! The animal needed discipline!"
Bianca’s eyes briefly flicked toward the attentive, silent guests, calculating the political damage of the moment. When her gaze returned to Ethan, the last remnants of her careful, composed smile froze into a mask of pure, controlled resentment. She lifted her chin, attempting to project an aura of untouchable aristocratic defiance. She believed her family's power could still shield her from his wrath.
"Then starve together," Bianca stated coldly, her voice dropping into a ruthless, uncompromising tone. "Both of you."
The sheer audacity of the confession, delivered in the presence of the mafia boss and his entire syndicate, was staggering. She had not denied the starvation; she had merely attempted to justify it as her absolute right as the future matriarch.
Ethan did not yell. He did not explode into physical violence. The quiet, deep, controlled manner in which he operated was far more terrifying than any shouted threat. He moved with preternatural speed, stepping smoothly into the space.
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Moving with profound, measured grace, Ethan reached down and collected Atlas’s trailing leather leash from the marble floor. He wrapped the thick leather securely around his tattooed hand. He stood firmly between Bianca and Mara, a physical shield of tailored dark wool.
Teddy rested a small hand on Atlas’s broad, muscular shoulder. Atlas remained calmly beside Mara, entirely unbothered by the rising tension. Ethan fixed Bianca with a cold, unwavering stare. His sharp, angular jaw was set in stone, his eyes promising absolute ruin.
