Chapter 3 - THE PRICE OF SILENCE
The solarium was flooded with pale morning light that bounced off Italian marble floors and imported white orchids. Camila Ashford was laughing, delicate porcelain teacup held gracefully between French-manicured fingers, as her mother pointed to fabric swatches for the bridal party.
“I’m telling you, Mother, champagne silk is the only choice,” Camila purred. “Though after that miserable creature ruined my entrance last night, I might have the entire catering staff replaced with professionals.”
The heavy glass doors swung open. Enzo stepped inside, his long black coat billowing slightly behind him. His presence instantly sucked the warmth from the room. The wedding planner dropped her pen; Camila’s mother, Eleanor Ashford, straightened her posture, offering an aristocratic, practiced smile.
“Enzo, darling,” Camila cooed, rising to greet him. “You look exhausted. You really shouldn't let the household staff disrupt your sleep over a minor squabble.”
Enzo didn't move toward her. He stopped five feet away, hands casually tucked into his trouser pockets. His gaze was entirely devoid of warmth. “A squabble, Camila? You used my father’s riding crop on an employee in front of two hundred people.”
Camila rolled her eyes, offering an exasperated sigh. “She grabbed my wrist! She was insolent, Enzo. These lower-class girls need boundaries, or they walk all over us. Besides, it was just a few scratches. I had Ambrose pay her extra. What else could she possibly want?”
“She didn't grab your wrist,” Enzo said, his tone flat, chillingly calm. “I watched the ballroom security footage thirty minutes ago. You were swaying on your heels, drunk on vintage Barolo, about to spill red wine down my mother’s vintage lace dress. Adeline intercepted the glass before it hit the fabric. She saved you from humiliating yourself.”
Camila’s porcelain facade cracked. Her cheeks flushed an ugly crimson. “Even if that were true, she is a servant! You embarrassed me by stopping me! Do you know what the wives of the city council are saying? They think you chose a maid over your future wife!”
“You are not my wife,” Enzo said.
The room went dead quiet. Eleanor Ashford stood up, her eyes wide with outrage. “Enzo Marquetti, you watch your tongue! The Ashford family brought social legitimacy to your father’s empire. Our merger cements the entire north side!”
Enzo didn't even look at the older woman. He kept his eyes locked on Camila, who had suddenly lost all her haughty arrogance. “The merger was contingent on mutual respect and clean books,” Enzo said quietly. “Tell me, Camila... how is the Ashford Medical Charity fund doing? The one dedicated to subsidizing organ transplants for underprivileged youth?”
Camila blanched. The teacup rattled against its saucer. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Lucian spent the morning auditing your foundation’s accounts,” Enzo continued, taking a slow step forward. With every step, Camila instinctively stepped back until her spine met the glass wall of the solarium. “Four point two million dollars transferred over three years into offshore accounts in the Caymans. Accounts registered under your brother Julian’s name to pay off his high-stakes gambling debts in Macau.”
“That’s a lie!” Camila shrieked, panic pitching her voice into a desperate whine. “Someone framed Julian! Enzo, you can’t believe financial gossip over me!”
“And the patients on the waiting list?” Enzo asked, leaning down until his lips were inches from her ear, his voice a lethal whisper. “The ones whose surgical grants were suddenly denied due to ‘lack of institutional funding’? Including a nineteen-year-old girl named Josie Croft?”
Camila froze as if struck by lightning. The name struck her like a physical blow. Her eyes darted wildly, the arrogance evaporating into pure, unadulterated terror. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“You recognized her last night, didn't you?” Enzo whispered, his dark eyes boring into her soul. “You knew exactly who was under that maid’s cap. You knew Adeline took the fall for Julian’s malpractice four years ago because your father threatened to pull Josie from the clinical trial if she didn't sign the confession. And when you saw her cleaning your floors, surviving your cruelty, you couldn't stand it.”
“Enzo, please—” Camila choked out, tears of genuine fear finally spilling over her mascara.
“Get your things,” Enzo ordered, straightening his back. “You have one hour to vacate this property. If I ever see you within a mile of Adeline Croft again, I will personally hand the audit files and the altered medical logs to the federal prosecutor. And your precious brother will spend the next thirty years in a federal penitentiary having his meals served through a slot.”
He turned around and walked out of the solarium, ignoring the frantic screams of Eleanor Ashford and the desperate weeping of his former fiancée.
Outside the mansion, Lucian was already waiting in the idling black armored SUV. “Boss, the team in Pilsen just called. We have a situation.”
Enzo’s heart seized. “What happened?”
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“Two men claiming to be private medical bailiffs from the Ashford clinic showed up at Croft’s apartment ten minutes ago. They’re attempting to seize the oxygen concentrator for unpaid medical debt.”
A wave of pure, murderous rage washed over Enzo. “Drive,” he commanded. “Break every red light.”
