“Your brother Evan. In your bedroom.”

Vanessa backed away from the Christmas tree, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished marble floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the luxurious satin of her expensive gown. Her diamond earrings shook as her aristocratic bravado finally shattered, leaving only primal terror in its wake.

"Gideon, you cannot believe this is worth ending our alliance over," Vanessa sobbed, her chest heaving as she tried to backpedal. "We are supposed to unite our syndicates! You cannot throw all of that away because of Evan's mistake! I will apologize to the girl! I will buy her whatever she wants!"

Gideon stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He kept his broad shoulders squarely between his son and the woman who had manipulated them all. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The political affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only survival and absolute retribution.

"Are you prepared to remove the ring from your finger, Vanessa, or must I cut it from your hand?" Gideon asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.

Vanessa flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup. She knew the stories of what Gideon Whitmore did to traitors within his syndicate.

"You can't do this!" Vanessa choked out, the venom returning as self-preservation took over. "My father is Victor Kerr! He commands the entire southern seaboard! He will burn your empire to the ground if you humiliate me like this!"

"Is your father a man who fights battles for foolish, adulterous daughters?" Gideon asked quietly.

"He will kill you!" Vanessa pleaded, reaching out to grasp the edge of a velvet sofa. "I am going to be your wife, Gideon! We signed the contracts! You cannot back out now without causing a massive war!"

"Do you expect me to harbor a traitor under my roof to appease a shipping magnate?" Gideon asked.

He didn't wait for her to answer. He reached into his tailored jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a single digit and pressed the phone to his ear. The small artistic tattoo above his collar shifted seamlessly with the movement.

"Marcus," Gideon said into the receiver, his eyes locked on his former fiancée. "Will you come to the salon and escort Miss Kerr to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately? And dispatch a team to locate my brother. Bring him to me alive."

He lowered the phone and looked at the broken socialite one last time.

"Have you finally realized the price of your ambition, Vanessa?" Gideon asked softly, as the heavy mahogany doors of the salon burst open.

Marcus and another massive security guard in dark suits entered the room. They marched forward without a word, hauling Vanessa roughly to her feet. She shrieked, thrashing wildly against their iron grip, but they were unyielding.