Chapter 5
The heavy doors clicked shut, plunging the vast, luminous dining room into a profound, ringing silence. The golden light continued to cascade over the abandoned gold-rimmed porcelain and half-empty crystal wine glasses. The opulent space, designed for celebration, now felt like a gilded interrogation chamber.
Camilla backed away from the head table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the sculpted satin of her expensive gown. Her diamond earrings shook as she wept, her carefully constructed facade entirely destroyed.
"Soren, you cannot believe this is real," Camilla 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 misunderstanding?"
Soren stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He slowly crouched down, bringing his handsome, angular face level with his daughter’s.
"Can you tell me exactly what you saw today, Alice?" Soren asked gently, his deep voice softening significantly to comfort the young girl.
Alice sniffled, rubbing her nose with the back of her small hand. She looked at Elodie, who gave her an encouraging, tearful nod, before looking back into her father's cold, but loving, eyes.
"I was hiding behind the curtains in the drawing room before dinner," Alice explained, her voice trembling but remarkably clear. "Camilla brought a man inside. He had a black coat. She handed him the baby carrier. She said, 'Take him far away, and make sure he never comes back to this city. I will not raise another woman's son.'"
Camilla let out a blood-curdling scream of denial. "She is lying! The maid told her to say that! She has been stealing information and trying to frame me for it!"
Soren rose slowly to his full height. He turned his broad, powerful shoulders toward his fiancée. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to bristle with barely contained violence.
"Would Elodie risk her life in this house to manufacture such a claim?" Soren asked.
"Yes!" Camilla shrieked, pointing viciously at the housemaid. "Look at her! She thinks she's better than me just because she plays the innocent victim!"
Soren didn't look at Elodie. He kept his perceptive eyes locked entirely on Camilla, 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. He knew when someone was lying to him, and he knew the awful, crushing weight of the truth.
"Are you capable of telling the truth, Camilla, or must I extract it from you?" Soren asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.
"I love you, Soren!" she wept, falling to her knees on the luxurious rug, the sculpted satin of her gown pooling around her. She clasped her hands together in a begging gesture. "Please, darling! My father forced me to do it! He said an heir from your first marriage would threaten our bloodline! I didn't want to hurt the boy!"
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"Did you believe that discarding my son would secure your place at the head of this empire?" Soren asked.
His voice dropped to a terrifying, gravelly whisper. It was a sound that had preceded the end of many men's lives. Camilla stared up at his movie-star handsome face, realizing with absolute, horrifying clarity that there was no escape. The mafia boss had heard enough, and the consequences would be paid in blood.
