POV: Elijah
The boardroom was a tomb, and I was the king presiding over the final judgment. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars, fear, and failure.
The man on his knees, Silvio, was a weasel who had gotten greedy. The open briefcase on the table displayed his audacity: my cash replaced with cut-up newspaper.
"Where is it, Silvio?" My voice was deceptively soft, a whisper that promised pain. I circled him. "You were trusted. You were family. And you stole from me."
Silvio spat a glob of blood onto the polished floor. "Go to hell, Fernandez."
A mistake. But not the fatal one.
I backhanded him across the face. The crack echoed in the quiet room. His head snapped to the side.
"I will ask you one more time. Where. Is. My. Money."
He lifted his head, a crazed, defiant glint in his eyes. He knew what was coming.
"You want your money?" he slurred through broken teeth. "Your dead wh&re of a mother probably stole it! That b&tch was always—"
The world turned red.
Nobody. Nobody insults my mother.
The shift was instantaneous. Controlled anger vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated rage. My hand found the pistol under my jacket.
The cold, familiar weight settled into my palm. The metallic click of the safety being disengaged was the only sound.
I pressed the barrel against Silvio's forehead. His defiance finally broke, replaced by pure, pants-wetting terror. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end.
My finger tightened on the trigger. The room held its breath.
CRASH-SHATTER-BANG!
The sound was deafening. Not a gunshot. It was the sound of shattering ceramic, a woman's sharp cry, and a panicked shriek from the hallway just outside the door.
Every man in the room jolted. My focus shattered. My head snapped toward the sound.
"Dios mío! Juliet! No, no, mi amor, don't touch! It's sharp!" Maria's voice, pitched high with panic, filtered through the heavy wood.
Juliet.
The red haze vanished. The gun in my hand felt suddenly alien, a vile object. In a blink, it was re-safetied and back in its holster. Silvio was forgotten.
"Get him out of my sight," I snarled at my men, already striding toward the door. "The deep cellar. Now."
I yanked the door open.
The scene in the opulent hallway was chaos. Maria was on her knees, frantically trying to gather pieces of a shattered Ming vase—a priceless antique—while simultaneously trying to corral a very pleased-looking Juliet. The baby, having apparently pulled the vase down with the edge of a rug or a low-hanging cloth, was now sitting amidst the debris, clutching a sharp-looking piece of painted ceramic in her chubby fist.
"No, pequeña! Sharp! Give it to Maria!" the nanny pleaded, her face ashen with fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She wasn't just scared of the broken heirloom; she was terrified of me.
Juliet, oblivious, grinned toothlessly and waved the shard. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. "Ijah!"
I was across the hall in two strides. I gently but firmly pried the dangerous shard from her fist, checking her hands for cuts. She was fine. Unharmed.
I straightened up, holding her securely against my chest. She babbled happily, grabbing my tie, completely oblivious to the tension she had just single-handedly unleashed.
I finally looked at Maria. She was trembling violently, still on her knees amidst the ruins, awaiting her sentence.
"Don Fernandez," she whispered, voice breaking. "I... I nodded off for one moment. Just one. I am so sorry. I will pay for it, I swear, I will work for—"
"Maria." My voice was low. It wasn't the soft tone for Juliet, but it wasn't the murderous one from the boardroom. It was the cold, calm voice of a Don assessing a breach in security.
She flinched.
"The vase is dust. It does not matter," I said.
Her head jerked up, confusion warring with her fear. "S-Señor?"
"What matters is that she was unattended. What matters is that she was holding broken porcelain." I let the weight of that statement hang in the air. She could have been hurt. She was in danger on your watch.
"You were not watching her."
Maria bowed her head, fresh sobs shaking her shoulders. "I have failed you. I understand."
I looked down at Juliet, who was now trying to eat my lapel. She was safe. That was the only thing that mattered.
Punishing Maria was inefficient. A new nanny was a vulnerability. Maria, after this terror, would never, ever let Juliet out of her sight again. The lesson was learned. The loyalty would be absolute.
"You will not sleep on duty again," I stated, my final word on the matter. "You will take her to the nursery. You will double-check the baby-proofing. And you will never speak of what you heard in that room. Is that clear?"
The relief that washed over her was so profound she nearly collapsed. It was a pardon she knew she didn't deserve. "Yes, Don Fernandez. Thank you. Gracias. I will never... never..."
"Go," I commanded, handing a wriggling Juliet back to her. "And find her the rubber cookies. Not the ceramic ones."
As Maria scurried away, clutching a babbling Juliet like the most precious treasure in the world, I turned back to the now-closed boardroom door.
The cold fury was still there, banked but hot. Silvio would still answer for his words. But the immediate, blinding urge to kill was gone.
My sister, in her chaotic, nine-month-old way, had once again commanded a ceasefire. She hadn't meant to. She'd just wanted to explore. But she had reminded me what I was truly protecting.
It wasn't the money. It wasn't the respect.
It was her. She was the only thing in this entire godforsaken empire that was truly worth protecting.