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.
Emilio 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 Claudia’s father inevitable, but the immediate, toxic sickness within his home had been surgically removed. Now, he had to secure his son and the woman who had suffered for him.
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.
Lenora was still sitting in the champagne velvet chair, her hands gripping the edges of the polished walnut table to stay upright. The sophisticated black maid dress contrasted sharply with her extreme pallor. Toby had climbed out of his chair and buried his face in the crook of Lenora’s neck, his small body trembling from the shouting and the sudden violence of Claudia’s removal. Lenora was gently stroking the child's hair, her softly oval face etched with deep, maternal relief despite her own physical exhaustion.
Emilio stopped beside them, his imposing, masculine frame casting a protective shadow over the housemaid and his son. He reached past Lenora and pulled the silver bread plate closer to her, tearing a warm roll in half and pressing it gently into her trembling hands.
"Will you eat this slowly, Lenora?" Emilio asked, his deep voice softening significantly, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Lenora nodded weakly, taking a small, tentative bite of the bread. Tears slipped down her cheeks as the food hit her empty stomach.
"Are you unharmed, Toby?" Emilio asked, crouching down beside his son.
Toby turned his head, his fair, rosy cheeks stained with fresh tears. He looked at the towering mafia boss, his 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 to protect Lenora?" Emilio asked, reaching out to gently cup the boy’s cheek.
Toby sniffled, leaning into his father's large, tattooed hand. "No."
"Are you a brave boy?" Emilio asked, his thumb brushing away a tear.
"Yes," Toby nodded, his small chin trembling.
Emilio shifted his gaze back to Lenora. The beautiful housemaid was watching him, her expressive brows drawn together in quiet empathy. She had risked her job, her physical safety, and nearly her life by enduring the starvation imposed by a mafia boss's fiancée. The fierce loyalty and quiet, mutual affection she had displayed was a rare, precious commodity in Emilio's dark, violent world.
"Will you take Toby up to the secure wing and stay with him until I come for you?" Emilio asked, holding her gaze with an intensity that sent a sudden, warm flutter through Lenora’s chest, overriding her physical weakness.
"Yes, Mr. Crowne," Lenora replied, her rosy cheeks flushing slightly under his intense focus as she forced herself to stand.
May you like
Emilio stood up, watching as the beautiful housemaid took his son's hand and led him out of the luminous dining room through a discrete service door. The impending war with the Voss syndicate loomed over him, but for the first time in three days, his house finally felt like a home again.
"Shall we prepare for what comes next?" Emilio asked the empty room, turning to begin his preparations for absolute war.
