Chapter 2 - THE FROZEN BANQUET
Silence choked the grand dining hall.
Thirty elite syndicate bosses held their breath.
Silver cutlery hovered inches above porcelain plates.
Crystal stemware remained frozen in mid-air.
Evander Cole did not blink.
His dark eyes bored holes into Marceline's soul.
The garnet silk gown suddenly looked like a shroud.
Marceline's chest heaved rapidly.
Her manicured fingernails dug into the white tablecloth.
"A glitch," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"A malicious prank by a jealous servant."
Daisy stepped back into the shadows.
Her apron still clutched the metallic bug.
Graham's voice echoed in everyone's minds.
The dead boy had not drowned.
Or so the secret recording claimed.
Evander took one slow step forward.
His tailored three-piece suit rustled quietly.
"Explain yourself, Marceline," he commanded.
The tone was terrifyingly calm.
It was the calm before a hurricane.
Marceline looked around the silent room.
Not a single syndicate capo met her gaze.
They all knew Evander's lethal reputation.
Crossing the Don meant certain death.
Betraying him meant slow annihilation.
"I swear to you, Evander," she stammered.
"It is a forgery. Artificial intelligence."
"Graham wants to destroy us."
Evander raised a single gloved hand.
The room plunged back into total dead silence.
"Graham has been dead for six months," Evander said.
"Buried six feet under cold New York soil."
"So how did his voice come from beneath my seat?"
Marceline swallowed hard.
Perspiration beaded along her hairline.
Her perfect makeup began to melt under the harsh lights.
"He... he left recordings," she lied desperately.
"Enemies trying to fracture our engagement."
Evander did not smile.
He reached out and took the bug from Daisy's hand.
His thumb brushed the tiny receiver.
"Daisy," Evander murmured without looking back.
"Lock all the mansion perimeter gates."
"Nobody leaves tonight."
"Not a single guest. Not a single guard."
Marceline's face turned completely white.
The diamond engagement ring caught the chandelier light.
It flickered like a dying star.
"You don't trust me?" she gasped.
"After three years of absolute devotion?"
Evander turned his full, crushing weight toward her.
"Devotion does not require a wiretap under my chair."
"Devotion does not involve Graham's ghost."
He dropped the metallic bug onto her crystal plate.
It landed with a sharp, metallic clink.
"Find Graham," Evander ordered his head of security.
"Turn this city upside down."
"Find the man who claims my son is still alive."
The guards rushed toward the mahogany doors.
Heavy boots echoed across the marble floor.
Marceline stood frozen in her garnet gown.
The illusion of control was shattered.
The trap had finally sprung.
And she was standing right in the middle of it.
Evander walked past her toward his private study.
He paused at the heavy oak threshold.
"This dinner is adjourned," he told the syndicate capos.
The bosses scrambled out of the room instantly.
No one wanted to be near the Don's wrath.
Daisy remained near the corner of the table.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Evander glanced at her one last time.
"Stay close, Daisy," he whispered.
"The real game has just begun."
The massive oak doors slammed shut behind him.
Marceline was left alone in the vast, glittering hall.
She stared at the empty chair.
Her secret empire was crumbling into dust.
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And the ghost of a six-year-old boy was howling in the dark.
[CLIFFHANGER: As Marceline tries to flee, her phone buzzes with a text from Graham: "He's coming for you next, and he knows where the boy is hidden."]
