Chapter 5
Lucille backed away until her spine hit the edge of a gilded mirror. The bright, luminous light of the room offered her no shadows to hide within, reflecting her panicked state infinitely across the salon. She looked wildly around the cavernous space, desperately seeking an ally, but the hardened guards refused to meet her eyes. The accusation of bigamy and attempted murder had severed any political ties she held in that room.
"It was an accident, Nolan!" Lucille pleaded, her hands shaking so violently her diamond earrings rattled. "The yacht hit a swell! He lost his footing! I tried to reach him, I swear I did! It was dark, the water was freezing!"
"Do you expect me to believe a man falls from a yacht without a single distress call being made to the Coast Guard?" Nolan asked, his deep voice slicing through her lies with cold precision. "Did the radio also suffer an accident that night?"
"I was in shock!" Lucille cried, real tears of panic finally spilling over her cheeks, ruining her elegant makeup. "I didn't know what to do! I knew you wouldn't understand!"
"You knew exactly what to do," Walter said, leaning heavily on Iris, his steady voice painting a vivid, horrifying picture in the quiet room. "We were on the aft deck. I was checking the mooring lines. You came up behind me. You didn't slip. You didn't reach for me. You pushed me overboard."
The absolute truth struck the room with undeniable finality.
"You watched me fall," Walter continued, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You stood at the railing, and you watched me fight the current until I was pulled under. It took me days to recover from the exposure, days to track you down, while you spent my money and played the innocent fiancée."
"It's a lie!" Lucille screamed, losing her aristocratic composure entirely. "He's making it up because he's jealous! He couldn't provide for me! He was weak! I did it for us, Nolan! I was securing a strong future for the syndicate!"
"Did you think I would crown a woman whose hands are stained with the murder of her own husband?" Nolan inquired, his voice remaining perfectly steady.
He looked down at Lucille, exposing the ruthless, pathetic rot underneath the silk and diamonds.
"I was doing it for you!" Lucille cried out, her voice pitching an octave higher as her panic fully set in. "You demand perfection in this house! You couldn't be burdened with my past! I solved the problem!"
"Do you believe you have the right to decide who lives and dies in my world?" Nolan asked, stepping slowly toward her. "Or do you simply lack the capacity to understand loyalty unless it is bought with blood money?"
The air in the salon crackled with a lethal tension. Lucille, cornered against the mirrored glass, realized that her aristocratic entitlement held absolutely no weight against the cold, calculating fury of the mafia boss.
"You need me!" Lucille shrieked, grasping at the last shreds of her political power and family influence. "My family controls the western distribution lines! We built this alliance together! If you break this engagement, my father will start a war that will burn this city to the ground!"
"Do you think the threat of a war frightens me more than a monster sleeping in my bed?" Nolan inquired, tilting his head slightly, his cold, observant eyes narrowing into dark, lethal slits.
He didn't wait for her to process the absolute lack of mercy in his gaze. He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored dark three-piece suit, his refined tattoos catching the golden light, and withdrew a heavy, encrypted mobile phone.
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"Are you waiting in the grand foyer, Marcus?" Nolan asked into the receiver. He paused, listening to his unseen underboss on the other end of the line. "Will you bring two men into the salon immediately?"
Lucille gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in sheer, unadulterated terror. She knew exactly what Marcus did for the Mercer family. He was the man who made Nolan’s problems disappear without a trace.
