Chapter 6
Gareth’s jaw tightened instantly, the extremely short stubble on his face bristling with suppressed, explosive violence. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as his fists clenched at his sides.
He left a small, measured, agonizing pause to stretch in the bright air like an executioner's blade. He let the silence crush the oxygen from the room, ensuring that every single person present understood the gravity of the moment.
"Megan," Gareth said, his deep, quiet voice echoing loudly in the dead-silent room.
He kept his cold, unwavering gaze locked entirely on the trembling housemaid.
"Who involved Penny?" Gareth asked, low and measured.
The question was not born of curiosity; it was a deadly demand for confirmation, dripping with the absolute promise of violent retribution for whoever had orchestrated the treason against his bloodline.
The silence in the grand salon became a physical, suffocating pressure. The dozens of ivory candles flickering inside their glass hurricane holders seemed to be the only things moving in the entire, luminous space.
Megan swallowed hard, her pulse racing frantically. She faced Gareth, her chest heaving rapidly beneath the fitted black fabric of her dress. She knew the extreme danger of exposing the boss's fiancée. She knew the immense power of the Vale family, and she knew Sienna’s capacity for vindictive, fatal violence.
But looking into Gareth’s eyes, feeling the absolute, terrifying demand for the truth radiating from his masculine frame, Megan found she had no choice. The presence of the mafia boss stripped away her fear of the socialite. He had just physically defended her, stepping between her and the threat.
Megan steadied a trembling, ragged breath. She slowly raised her head, maintaining unwavering eye contact with the man who commanded the city.
"Sienna told Penny to hide it," Megan stated, her voice quiet but carrying a fierce, devastating conviction.
The admission was a knife to the chest of the entire syndicate. A collective, quiet gasp rippled through the elite guests standing near the velvet sofas. The sheer, audacious malice of using a toddler to frame a servant was an act of psychological manipulation that disgusted even seasoned syndicate members.
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Sienna’s concerned expression froze completely. She briefly glanced down at Penny, her eyes flashing with pure, unadulterated hatred for the toddler who had exposed her, before she returned her gaze to Gareth.
She met Gareth’s gaze with a thin, defensive smile, a grotesque mask of aristocratic composure attempting to salvage her pride in a room where she was entirely exposed.
