Chapter 9 - The Claiming
That evening, the Savelli estate hosted its annual winter gala—a massive, lavish gathering of every high-ranking family, political ally, and syndicate leader in the North East.
The grand ballroom was a sea of glittering diamonds, black tuxedos, and tailored evening gowns.
However, a dark cloud of cruel gossip was whispering through the crowd.
Word had leaked that Matthias had executed his long-time CFO and fired his high-priced nutritionist over a domestic plot, elevating his new house cook to a position of high honor within the household.
Near the champagne fountain, Donna Luciana—the arrogant, skinny matriarch of the rival Moretti clan—stood surrounded by four aristocratic syndicate women, sipping crystal flutes of prosecco.
When Clara stepped down the grand staircase into the ballroom, wearing an emerald green velvet gown that magnificently showcased her full, voluptuous hips and soft, breathtaking cleavage, Luciana let out a loud, mocking sneer.
"Look at that," Luciana said loudly enough for ten people to hear. "Matthias brings his kitchen servant into the ballroom. I suppose she smelled too much of onion soup to stay in the pantry."
The surrounding socialites let out quiet, cruel titters of laughter.
Clara paused on the bottom step, her cheeks flushing slightly, but she kept her head held high, refusing to let them see her flinch.
Before the laughter could even settle, the heavy double doors at the top of the stairs slammed open.
Matthias stepped into the ballroom.
He looked like a dark god of war, dressed in an immaculate charcoal tuxedo, his presence commanding absolute, terrifying silence across the entire three-hundred-person crowd.
His slate-grey eyes swept over the room, instantly locking onto Luciana’s mocking face, then moving down to Clara.
He didn't walk toward his capos. He didn't acknowledge the visiting dons.
Matthias walked straight up to Clara.
In front of every crime boss, politician, and aristocratic woman in the state, Matthias dropped to his knee right at Clara’s feet on the marble floor.
The ballroom went dead quiet. People gasped aloud, dropping their champagne glasses.
Matthias reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a velvet box. He opened it to reveal an extraordinary twelve-carat, flawless canary yellow diamond ring, glittering bright as the sun under the crystal chandeliers.
He took Clara’s soft, trembling right hand in his.
"Clara Whitmore," Matthias said, his deep, powerful voice echoing off the high frescoed ceilings so clearly that every single person heard every word.
"You came into my broken home when everyone else fled. You protected my mother with your life, uncovered the snakes in my grass, and brought light back into my dark life."
He slid the massive diamond ring onto her finger, fitting it perfectly against her skin.
He stood up, stepping close enough to wrap his arm firmly around her wide, beautiful waist, pulling her soft body tightly against his broad, muscular frame.
He turned his cold, deadly grey eyes directly onto Donna Luciana and her mocking circle.
"This is Clara Whitmore," Matthias declared, his voice dropping into a register of raw, apocalyptic authority that made the floorboards vibrate.
"She is my fiancée. She is the future Donna of the Savelli Syndicate. And if anyone in this city ever dares to speak a word of insult to her, or looks at her with anything less than total reverence..."
He raised his right hand, making a slow, terrifying sign to his enforcers standing at every exit.
"...I will erase their family line from the face of this earth."
Donna Luciana turned pale as a corpse, instantly dropping her head in complete, terrified submission. Every person in the room bowed their heads respectfully toward Clara.
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Clara looked up into Matthias’s fierce, protective eyes, her heart swelling with an overwhelming love that took her breath away.
No one would ever humiliate her again.
