Chapter 4
The child’s words fell into the silent, opulent dining hall like a lit match into a powder keg. The sheer, innocent certainty in Noah’s voice stripped away every layer of sophisticated deniability. Delia Cross had not merely kept a secret; she had attempted to murder the mother of Elias's unborn child, and she had done it in front of his firstborn son.
The color vanished entirely from Delia’s fair, rosy skin. The thin, polished smile she had fought so hard to maintain shattered completely, leaving her looking hollow and terrified under the warm golden light of the chandeliers.
"Noah, sweetie, you must be confused," Delia stammered, her voice pitching slightly higher as panic set in. She looked frantically around the table, seeking an ally among the stunned capos. "He has an overactive imagination. He was playing near the stairs, he didn't see anything clearly."
Elias did not look at Delia right away. He briefly looked toward Vera with quiet, profound concern. His eyes swept over her delicate features, searching for any sign of physical injury he had missed, the horrifying realization of how close she had come to death settling heavily into his bones. He felt the slight tremor in her elbow beneath his supporting hand.
Then, Elias slowly turned toward Delia.
The movement was deliberate, unhurried, and terrifyingly precise. The artistic tattoos on his neck shifted as his sharply defined jaw tightened slightly. He looked down at the woman in the luxurious emerald gown, holding her in a cold, unwavering stare. The masculine beauty of his face transformed into a mask of pure, absolute lethality.
He didn't shout. He didn't draw a weapon. The silence that stretched out from his stare was a physical weight, pressing down on Delia until she shrank back into her velvet dining chair.
"Did you think a fall would solve your problems, Delia?" Elias asked softly, his deep, controlled voice lacking any trace of warmth. "Or did you simply lack the courage to look me in the eye and tell me my child was dead?"
"Elias, please," Delia whispered, her hands shaking so badly her diamond earrings rattled with her tremors. "She is a servant! She is trying to trap you! You cannot believe this girl and a confused child over me! Our families have an alliance!"
"Is an alliance built on the attempted murder of my blood?" Elias inquired, his voice remaining perfectly steady.
He released Vera’s elbow, though he stayed positioned directly in front of her, shielding her with his broad shoulders. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the fifty donors, relatives, and capos who were frozen at the banquet tables.
"This dinner is concluded," Elias announced.
The command was absolute. No one hesitated. The scraping of velvet chairs against the marble floor echoed like a chaotic symphony as dozens of powerful men and women scrambled to their feet. They abandoned their fine porcelain, their crystal glasses of wine, and their political ambitions, desperate to escape the blast radius of the mafia boss's wrath.
"Elias, you can't do this!" Delia shrieked, standing up as the guests poured toward the heavy mahogany doors. "My father will not stand for this humiliation! He will pull his men from the docks!"
"Let him pull them," Elias replied coldly, not breaking his unwavering stare. "Let him see how far his men get without my permission to breathe."
He reached into his tailored suit jacket and withdrew a heavy, encrypted mobile phone. He pressed a single button, raising it to his ear.
May you like
"Marcus," Elias said into the receiver. "Seal the dining hall doors. Do not let Miss Cross leave."
Delia gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as the heavy doors slammed shut behind the last fleeing guest, leaving her trapped inside the opulent room with a man she had deeply, fatally betrayed.
