Chapter 3
The tension in the bright, luminous ballroom reached a breaking point. The gentle golden highlights reflecting off the crystal chandeliers seemed to freeze as Verity reached back into the deep pocket of her white apron. Her movements were deliberate, though her slender fingers shook with the sheer magnitude of the secret she was about to expose.
Soren watched her intently, his sharp jaw locked. "What do you have in your apron, Verity?" he asked, his controlled voice barely masking the violent storm brewing behind his cold eyes.
Verity pulled out a piece of glossy paper, folded neatly in half. With trembling hands, she unfolded it and held it up between them, shielding it slightly from the bodyguards but ensuring Soren had a clear view.
It was a photograph. The image clearly showed Soren’s wife, looking exhausted and terrified, holding their young daughter tightly against her chest in a room that was entirely devoid of natural light.
Soren’s breath hitched. The muscles in his broad shoulders went rigid beneath his tailored dark suit. "Where did you find this?" he asked, his eyes burning into the photographic evidence of his family's captivity. "Are they still alive?"
Before Verity could answer, Cressida stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the maid displaying something to her nephew. The older woman aggressively snatched at the edge of the paper, pulling it just enough to see the faces printed on it.
The smug, triumphant smile vanished from Cressida’s rosy face in an instant. The color drained from her cheeks, replaced by a mask of sheer, panicked fury.
"Burn that," Cressida snapped sharply, her voice cracking like a whip across the dining tables.
She did not hesitate. Fueled by the desperation of a collapsing coup, Cressida raised her hand, her heavy pearl rings glinting in the light, aiming a devastating second strike directly toward Soren’s face to regain control of the situation.
"Do you think a second strike will erase the truth, Cressida?" Soren asked, unblinking as the hand descended.
But the strike never landed.
Verity spun around. In a fluid, desperate motion, she grabbed a heavy silver ice bucket from the nearest champagne table. Ice and freezing water sloshed over the rim as she hurled the solid silver vessel directly into Cressida’s upper body with all the strength she possessed.
The heavy bucket struck the older woman squarely in the chest. Cressida gasped, the wind knocked completely out of her lungs. She staggered backward, her high heels slipping on the marble floor, and crashed heavily into an upholstered velvet chair.
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The silver bucket clattered loudly across the floor, ice cubes scattering like diamonds under the chandeliers. Both bodyguards immediately released Soren's arms, lunging forward in a state of panic to catch the falling matriarch and steady her in the chair.
Every nearby guest stopped laughing. The music halted. Total, absolute silence reigned.
