Chapter 7
The bright video colors of the ballroom—the vibrant floral arrangements, the warm glow of the remaining ceremonial lanterns, the rich hues of the guests' elegant gowns—felt starkly contrasted against the dark, violent reality unfolding on the marble floor. Cassian stood as an immovable pillar of masculine authority, the sheer weight of his presence suffocating the room.
"Lock the doors," Cassian commanded. His raspy voice did not rise in volume, yet it carried effortlessly to every corner of the massive space.
Instantly, the white American bodyguards stationed along the perimeter moved with lethal, synchronized precision. The heavy mahogany double doors of the ballroom were pushed shut with a resounding, definitive thud. The thick deadbolts slid into place. No one was leaving. The elite wedding guests shifted uncomfortably, their fair skin paling as they realized they were now locked in a room with a Don dispensing absolute judgment.
Cassian turned his back on his aunt and walked slowly toward Elena. His polished leather shoes stepped carefully over the scattered decorative ribbons and shattered glass. He stopped a few feet away, giving her the space she needed, his cold, intimidating eyes softening only for her.
"Elena," Cassian murmured gently. "Tell me the rest."
Elena took a shaky breath, her hands resting protectively on Isla’s small shoulders. She looked into his eyes, searching for the man she had once loved so fiercely.
"Three years ago, the night before I was supposed to tell you I was pregnant, your men came to my apartment," Elena said, her American accent trembling with the memory of the trauma. "Tristan was leading them. He told me that you had discovered the pregnancy. He said you viewed the child as a vulnerability and wanted the problem 'eliminated.'"
A collective gasp echoed from the capos. Using the Don's own men to carry out a fake execution order was an act of high treason that demanded the harshest penalty the syndicate could deliver.
"Tristan held a gun to my head," Elena continued, tears spilling over her rosy cheeks. "Vivienne was on speakerphone. She played the recording... she told me that if I ran, if I disappeared completely and never spoke your name again, they would spare my life and the baby's life. I had two hours to pack a bag and leave the state."
Cassian’s jaw clenched so tightly the muscles feathered beneath his neatly trimmed beard. The family signet ring on his hand caught the bright, cinematic light as he curled his fingers into a tight fist.
"I changed my name. I moved to the coast. I worked three jobs just to keep her fed," Elena wept, looking down at the little girl in the dusty-rose dress. "I lived every single day looking over my shoulder, terrified that your men would find us and finish the job."
"Why are you here today?" Cassian asked, his voice thick with suppressed, agonizing emotion.
May you like
"I saw the wedding announcement in the papers," Elena whispered. "I needed to know... I needed to see if you were really the monster they said you were. But Isla saw you from the balcony. She recognized your face from a photograph I kept hidden. She ran before I could stop her."
Cassian closed his eyes, absorbing the profound, devastating extent of the manipulation. He had been a prisoner in his own empire, manipulated by the very blood he trusted.
