Chapter 6
The catastrophic screech of the sliding engagement chair echoed through the vast ballroom before finally settling into a dead, heavy silence. The cinematic, bright lighting illuminated Ainsley’s terrified face. Her arrogant facade had completely shattered, replaced by the pale, sweaty mask of a woman who finally understood she was dealing with a ruthless warlord, not just a wealthy businessman.
Galen slowly walked over to the engagement chair. He looked down at the trembling woman with cold, sharp, intimidating eyes that were entirely devoid of human empathy.
He reached out his large, tattooed hand. With a swift, effortless motion, he pried Ainsley’s manicured fingers open and retrieved the antique silver keepsake locket she had stolen. Ainsley did not resist; she was too paralyzed by fear to move a single muscle.
Galen turned his back on her, completely dismissing her existence. He walked back to Eira, kneeling down gracefully onto the marble floor.
"Here, my little bird," Galen murmured softly, his American accent filled with a deep, protective tenderness. He gently placed the locket back into Eira’s tiny hands. "This belongs to you. No one will ever take it from you again."
Eira clutched the silver pendant tightly against her chest, offering a small, teary smile. "Thank you, Daddy."
Galen stood back up to his full, deeply masculine height. He adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt, the family signet ring catching the bright light. He turned his attention back to the woman hyperventilating in the engagement chair.
He raised a single hand and made a subtle, commanding gesture.
Instantly, two massive, heavily armed white American bodyguards in professional dark suits stepped out from the perimeter. They marched across the room and took up positions directly behind Ainsley’s chair, boxing her in entirely. Their hands rested casually near the concealed weapons beneath their jackets.
The surrounding guests remained completely silent, terrified to make a sound as the Don prepared to pass judgment.
"Galen, please," Ainsley whimpered, her voice a pathetic, broken whisper. "My father... my family... you can't do this."
Galen looked down at her, his expression a terrifyingly blank canvas of impending doom. He had drawn his line in the sand, and he was prepared to bathe the city in blood to defend it.
"You told me to choose," Galen said, quiet and lethal. The controlled, measured pause between his words struck like physical blows.
He looked around the room, ensuring every single member of the syndicate heard his next words clearly.
May you like
"There is no new wife."
Ainsley’s face became genuinely, profoundly frightened. The absolute, undeniable certainty in his voice sealed her fate. She was not just losing a marriage; she had just made an enemy of the most dangerous man on the eastern seaboard.
