Chapter 7
The towering Christmas tree continued to sparkle with golden lights and red ribbons, a surreal, festive backdrop to the brutal mafia justice that had just been executed. Tristan stood perfectly still for a long moment, the adrenaline of the confrontation slowly ebbing from his system, leaving behind a profound, aching exhaustion.
He had defended his daughter and protected the woman who had quietly suffered agonizing psychological pain to care for the girl. But the political fallout with the Cross family would inevitably ignite a massive war in the coming days. Serena's father, a powerful underboss with deep ties to the eastern ports, would not let the imprisonment of his daughter go unanswered. Blood would inevitably spill on the snow before the new year.
Tristan let out a slow, controlled breath. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, rolling his broad shoulders to release the coiled tension. He looked at the empty porcelain urn still resting on the walnut console, a fierce, protective rage continuing to burn in his chest. He needed to secure his daughter. He needed to ensure the estate was locked down before the Cross syndicate realized the engagement had been violently broken.
He turned and strode purposefully out of the grand salon, ascending the marble staircase two steps at a time. His polished shoes were silent on the thick carpet as he headed straight for his private quarters on the second floor.
He approached the heavy wooden door of the master suite. Two enforcers stood guard, their hands resting on their holstered weapons. They nodded respectfully as the boss approached.
"Is the perimeter secure?" Tristan asked, his deep voice carrying a quiet urgency.
"Yes, Boss. No one has entered or exited the wing," the lead guard confirmed, stepping aside to open the heavy door for him.
Tristan stepped into his private quarters. The room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of a roaring fireplace. Mabel was sitting on the edge of the massive four-poster bed, having shed her cranberry knitted cardigan, looking small and fragile in her cream velvet dress. Sitting on the floor right beside her, speaking in a low, soothing voice, was Alina Reed.
The maid had removed her rumpled white apron, folding it neatly over her lap to protect the sealed vacuum bag that she still held delicately. Her black dress was still creased, but her delicate features radiated a fierce, protective warmth. As Tristan entered, Alina immediately stood up, smoothing her skirt with her free hand, her expressive eyes darting to his face to read the outcome of the confrontation downstairs.
"Daddy!" Mabel cried, jumping out of the bed and running across the room.
Tristan dropped to one knee, catching his daughter perfectly as the girl threw her small arms around his broad shoulders. He buried his face in Mabel's soft curls, closing his eyes tightly, inhaling the innocent scent of his child amidst a world of violence.
"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm right here," Tristan murmured, his deep voice thick with emotion.
"Is Auntie Serena coming back, Daddy?" Mabel whispered, her voice trembling with the residual fear of the evening's chaos.
"Never," Tristan said fiercely, pulling back to look directly into his daughter's eyes. "You are my entire world, Mabel. No one will ever hurt you or the people you love again. The woman who did those things is gone. She will never, ever step foot in this house again."
Mabel sniffled, nodding slowly as she accepted her father's absolute certainty. "Mommy Alina said you wouldn't let the bad lady hurt us."
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Tristan looked up. Alina was standing quietly by the armchair, cradling the vacuum bag against her chest, her graceful posture a testament to her quiet strength. She had risked severe psychological injury every day under Serena's tyrannical reign, silently absorbing the abuse to remain close to the girl. And his daughter called her Mommy. The word struck a chord deep within Tristan's chest, a realization of the massive void in his daughter's life that this gentle maid had effortlessly filled.
"Alina is very smart," Tristan said softly, keeping his dark eyes locked on the beautiful maid. "And incredibly brave."
