Chapter 4
"Yes! He hates me!" Camille shrieked, looking frantically around the room at the seated guests, silently begging someone—anyone—to intervene. But the elite crowd sat immobilized, their fair faces pale with shock, utterly unwilling to cross the mafia boss.
Adrian slowly swept his gaze across the room, taking in the numerous capos and donors sitting frozen at the long banquet table.
"Have you all located the exits, or do my men need to assist you?" Adrian asked the room at large.
It was phrased as a question, but the command hidden within it was unmistakable and absolute. Chairs scraped violently against the polished marble floors as the fifty guests practically scrambled to their feet. There were no polite farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in evening gowns fled the bright, elegant room with frantic urgency, eager to escape the blast radius of Adrian Blackwell’s wrath.
Within ninety seconds, the expansive dining hall was completely empty, save for Adrian, Camille, Holly, and Owen. The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, sealing the room and locking Camille inside with her greatest nightmare.
"Did you truly believe you could run a psychological torture operation against my bloodline and remain seated at my table?" Adrian asked, turning his terrifying focus entirely back to the woman in the emerald gown.
Camille backed away from the head table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the luxurious satin of her dress. Her diamond earrings shook as she wept, her carefully constructed public smile entirely destroyed.
"Adrian, you cannot believe this is worth ending our alliance over," Camille sobbed, her chest heaving. "My family arranged this marriage! We are supposed to unite our syndicates! Are you going to throw all of that away because of a dog and a lying maid?"
Adrian stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He slowly crouched down, keeping his imposing frame perfectly balanced, and looked at his son.
"Can you tell me exactly what she did while I was gone, Owen?" Adrian asked gently, his deep voice softening significantly to comfort the boy.
Owen sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his small hand. He looked at Holly, who offered a warm, encouraging smile, before looking back into his father's cold, but loving, eyes.
"Teddy was crying because he missed you," Owen explained, his voice trembling but remarkably clear. "Camille put the red ribbon on him. Every time Teddy made a noise, she pushed the black button. Teddy would shake and fall down. I begged her to stop, Daddy. But she said if I cried for a dog, I was weak, and you would be ashamed of me."
Camille let out a blood-curdling scream of denial. "He is lying! The maid told him to say that! She is a manipulative little bitch!"
Adrian rose slowly to his full height. He turned his broad, powerful shoulders toward his fiancée. The negative space tattoos on his hands flexed as he gripped the edge of the dining table.
"Would Holly risk her life in this room to manufacture such a claim?" Adrian asked.
"Yes!" Camille shrieked, pointing viciously at the housemaid. "Look at her! She thinks she's better than me just because she plays the innocent victim!"
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Adrian didn't look at Holly. He kept his perceptive eyes locked entirely on Camille, dissecting her panic, reading the absolute guilt written plainly across her flushed, rosy skin. He had survived in the criminal underworld by being an unparalleled judge of human character.
"Are you capable of telling the truth, Camille, or must I extract it from you?" Adrian asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.
