Chapter 9
The grand ballroom slowly emptied of the Ashford faction, leaving only Adrian’s most loyal men and the terrified wedding guests, who had retreated to the far corners of the room. The bright, natural light seemed to soften as the afternoon wore on, casting long shadows across the marble floor.
Catherine stepped forward, her elegant gown rustling quietly. She walked over to Clara, who was still holding baby Mia tightly against her chest. Catherine knelt down, a gentle, maternal smile breaking through the shock on her face.
"Hello, Clara," Catherine said softly, keeping her American accent warm and soothing. "I am your Aunt Catherine. You are so very brave for bringing your sister all this way."
Clara sniffled, her wide blue eyes looking up at Catherine. "Are you going to hurt us?"
"Never," Catherine promised, tears welling in her eyes. "We are your family. We are going to protect you forever." She looked up at Adrian. "Adrian, they are exhausted and terrified. I need to take them upstairs to the penthouse. They need food, and the baby needs to be changed."
Adrian looked at the two little girls. His fair, rosy skin was pale, the emotional toll of the last ten minutes warring with his stoic Mafia persona. He stepped forward and knelt beside Catherine. He reached out with his large, tattooed hand and gently, incredibly softly, brushed a smudge of dirt from Clara’s cheek.
"You did exactly what Mommy asked you to do, Clara," Adrian whispered, his raspy voice filled with an overwhelming, protective love. "You are the bravest girl in the world. Go with Aunt Catherine. I will come up and see you very soon. I promise."
"Okay, Daddy," Clara whispered, finally allowing herself to be guided away. She let Catherine gently take baby Mia from her tired arms, and the three of them walked toward the private elevators, flanked by four heavily armed guards.
Adrian watched them go until the elevator doors closed. He stood alone in the center of the ruined wedding venue, surrounded by shattered flowers, broken wood, and scattered name cards.
He looked down at his left hand. The ring finger was bare. He had almost married a woman who had actively conspired to keep his true family in exile. The rage building inside him was volcanic, but he kept his face an unreadable mask.
He held the worn, faded envelope in his right hand. ADRIAN HALE — ONLY.
"Boss," his lead capo said, stepping up cautiously. "The Ashfords have been expelled. The perimeter is locked down. What are your orders?"
"Clear the room," Adrian said quietly. "Get the guests out of here safely. I want the ballroom empty."
May you like
"Yes, sir."
Within minutes, the vast, beautiful room was entirely deserted, save for Adrian standing alone in the cinematic light.
