Chapter 6
The silence in the grand dining hall was absolute, a heavy, oppressive weight that smothered the bright, airy elegance of the room. The cascading crystal chandeliers continued to bathe the ivory-paneled walls in a soft, elegant warmth, but the atmosphere had turned as cold as a morgue.
Viviana was completely isolated, standing alone opposite the unified front of the Hollis patriarch and the brave housemaid who had inadvertently triggered her downfall.
"You can't do this, Damian," Viviana hissed, panic mutating into cornered, vicious entitlement. "My family brings the southern ports to this alliance. If you humiliate me based on the ramblings of a child, my father will declare war. He will shut down your supply lines."
"Will he declare war?" Damian asked, tilting his head with dangerous curiosity. The loose strands of wavy hair falling over his forehead contrasted violently with the absolute, apocalyptic death promised in his cold eyes. "Or will he thank me for returning his defective, cruel daughter before she caused a war he could not possibly win?"
Viviana’s mouth dropped open. The color drained entirely from her lips. She realized she had absolutely no power left in the room. The alliance was dead, severed by her own psychopathic ambition.
"Get your hands off me!" Viviana screamed as two massive men in tailored dark suits stepped forward from the shadows and grabbed her by the arms. She thrashed wildly, her sculpted satin gown twisting awkwardly around her legs. "You are choosing a servant and a hallucinating brat over a queen! You are a fool, Damian!"
"Are empires built by men who allow innocence to be tortured in their own homes?" Damian inquired, entirely unaffected by her venom.
He didn't wait for a response. He slowly turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the silent, paralyzed guests.
"Is this engagement dinner concluded?" Damian asked the room at large.
The question was rhetorical, a lethal command disguised as an inquiry. The guests immediately understood. Chairs scraped softly against the polished marble floors as the most powerful men and women in the American mafia stood up in unison. They didn't speak. They didn't offer their goodbyes or polite pleasantries. They simply turned and began a swift, silent exodus from the luminous dining hall, eager to escape the blast radius of the Boss's impending wrath.
Within ninety seconds, the massive, opulent room was entirely empty of guests. The only people remaining in the dining hall were Damian, Lara, Grace, Viviana, and a dozen heavily armed, white American security guards standing quietly in the shadows near the heavy silk curtains.
"What are you going to do to me?" Viviana whispered, genuine, unadulterated fear finally bleeding into her eyes.
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"Will my men escort you to the lower levels, or will you walk there yourself to await my judgment?" Damian asked softly, gesturing with a heavily tattooed hand toward the armed guards.
Viviana let out a ragged, humiliated sob as the guards began to drag her toward the heavy double doors. Her furious, terrified screams echoed through the bright, airy room, fading only when the doors slammed shut, plunging the dining hall back into a profound, ringing silence.
