Chapter 5 - THE SISTER’S RAGE
While Elena recovered within the quiet walls of the Voss estate, Manhattan was burning beneath a surface of artificial smiles.
Inside the penthouse suite of the Ashworth tower, Vivienne Ashworth slammed a crystal vase against the floor, sending shards of glass and crushed orchids across the Persian rug.
“What do you mean you haven't found her?!” Vivienne screamed, her immaculate makeup cracking with rage. “She’s a useless, uneducated brat! She doesn't know how to hide!”
Marcus Whitlock stood by the bar, pouring himself a third glass of bourbon. His handsome face was dark, dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes.
“Keep your voice down, Vivienne,” Marcus snapped coldly. “Your father’s staff is downstairs. If the press gets wind of this—”
“I don't care about the press!” Vivienne yelled, marching over to him and grabbing his lapels. “Dante Voss took her! He thinks he has me! Do you realize how humiliating this is? My wedding was ruined, the news thinks I’m in a mental asylum in Switzerland, and that worthless little servant is sleeping in a mafia boss's mansion!”
Arthur Ashworth entered the room, his silver hair neatly styled, his expensive tailored suit spotless. He walked with a heavy cane, his face an impenetrable wall of cold arrogance.
“Silence, both of you,” Arthur commanded smoothly.
Vivian let go of Marcus, crossing her arms tightly. “Father, we have to strike back! Send the family's soldiers to the Voss estate!”
“Dante Voss’s mountain estate is a fortress, Vivienne,” Arthur said, pouring himself a drink. “A direct assault would cost us thirty men and guarantee a war with the entire Commission. We do not strike with guns when we can strike with leverage.”
Marcus looked up, his sharp eyes narrowing. “What leverage? Elena doesn't have any value. She’s an illegitimate nobody.”
Arthur smiled—a slow, cruel smile that made even Marcus feel a chill.
“Dante Voss is a man of honor,” Arthur explained quietly. “It is his greatest weakness. His father was a savage, but Dante fancies himself a protector of the innocent. He didn't execute Elena the moment he realized she wasn't Vivienne. That means he is keeping her alive. He is protecting her.”
Arthur turned to Marcus, resting his hands on his gold-headed cane.
“Elena left something behind in her servant room, Marcus,” Arthur continued. “A journal. Detailed records of every bruise you gave her, every date, every location. If that journal reaches the press, your political career is finished before it even begins.”
Marcus’s face turned ghastly pale. “Where is the journal?”
“In my safe,” Arthur said smoothly. “Dante Voss wants to play the hero. We are going to offer him a trade. We give him the waterfront docks he’s wanted for five years... in exchange for Elena and her quiet disappearance.”
“And what happens when we get her back?” Marcus asked, his voice dark and venomous.
May you like
Arthur looked out the penthouse window over the glittering Manhattan skyline.
“Then, Marcus,” Arthur whispered, “you ensure she never speaks again.”
