Chapter 6
The realization of the conspiracy rippled through the gathered high-society guests and museum officials, who stood paralyzed against the aquarium walls. Whispers broke out like static electricity, cutting through the chilling silence of the donor lounge.
"A fake pregnancy," a board member whispered to his wife, shaking his head in disbelief. "The absolute audacity to pull that on Dominic Whitmore. She must have a death wish."
"Quiet," his wife hissed back, terrified of drawing the mafia boss's attention. "Don't look at him."
Genevieve clutched her head, her elaborate diamond earrings catching the blue museum light as she wept hysterically on the carpet. "I'm sorry! I'll leave! Just let me go, Dominic, I won't ever come back! Please, don't hurt me!"
Beatrice, nursing her bruised cheek against the padded bench, glared up at Dominic with pure, unadulterated hatred burning in her aged eyes. Her elegant emerald-green silk gala gown was now wrinkled and dusty. "You think... you think this makes you righteous, Dominic?" she spat, her voice raspy and bitter. "You’ve always ruled with an iron fist, tearing your own blood apart for that brat! You are a monster!"
Dominic didn't even glance down at his sister. He gently shifted Maya in his arms, making sure the little girl’s ears were partially covered so she wouldn't have to listen to the venomous words of her great-aunt. His dark, piercing gaze remained locked on Genevieve, who cowered beneath his towering presence.
"Blood is not defined by shared lineage, Beatrice," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm, carrying a musical cadence of absolute finality. "Blood is defined by loyalty, protection, and respect. You failed all three tonight. Every single one of you."
Cameron bowed his head in deep shame, unable to meet his father's eyes. He knew the unwritten rules of the syndicate, and he knew that deception of this magnitude within Dominic’s inner circle carried a terrible price. "Father, I didn't know. I swear on my life, I had no idea this was happening."
"A man who does not know what happens under his own roof is a danger to the table," Dominic stated coldly, his words slicing through Cameron's defense. "We will deal with your blindness later."
Dominic turned his gaze toward the shadows near the service entrance. "Marcus."
A towering capo stepped forward, his dark suit blending seamlessly into the museum's dim lighting. "Boss," he replied respectfully, awaiting his orders.
"Take Genevieve and Preston out through the service docks," Dominic instructed, his voice as smooth and lethal as a drawn blade. "Ensure they are stripped of everything they brought into my house and my museums. Send them back to whatever gutter they crawled out of before sunrise."
"No, please!" Genevieve shrieked as Marcus lifted her to her feet by her elbows, dragging her backward toward the private elevator.
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"And as for Beatrice," Dominic continued, ignoring the screaming woman entirely. "Confine her to her estate in Vermont. She is not to step foot in Boston ever again."
"You can't do this to me! I am your sister!" Beatrice screamed, scrambling to her feet, but two massive bodyguards immediately intercepted her, pinning her arms firmly behind her back.
