Chapter 7 - The Syndicate Banquet
By Saturday evening, the Weston estate had been transformed into a fortress of velvet and gold. Julian was hosting the quarterly syndicate banquet—a mandatory gathering of New England’s most powerful crime families designed to show strength and unity after the failed assassination attempt on his children.
Elena had spent the entire day in the nursery, keeping Leo and Mia isolated from the noise of arriving limousines and armed bodyguards. Around seven o'clock, there was a sharp rap at the nursery door.
Mrs. Gable stood on the threshold holding a garment bag of breathable black cotton. "Mr. Marchesi’s orders," the housekeeper said, her voice clipped and devoid of its usual pity. "You are to attend the banquet tonight as the children's formal escort. You have twenty minutes to dress."
"I'm a governess, Mrs. Gable, not a high-society guest," Elena protested.
"Mr. Marchesi wants his children visible for the opening toast to demonstrate they are unharmed," the older woman replied coldly, hanging the bag on the wardrobe door. "And he wants the woman who saved them standing directly behind them. Do not keep him waiting."
When Elena unzipped the bag ten minutes later, her breath caught. It wasn't a standard domestic uniform. It was a floor-length evening gown of midnight-blue silk, cut with a modest neckline but draping across her frame with breathtaking, expensive precision. Sitting at the bottom of the bag was a simple velvet box containing a pair of diamond-stud earrings.
When she walked down the grand staircase holding Leo and Mia by the hands twenty minutes later, the cavernous ballroom fell silent.
Dozens of powerful men in bespoke tuxedos and women in glittering jewels turned to stare. But Elena only saw one person.
Julian stood at the base of the staircase, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo that made him look like dark royalty. He was surrounded by three rival family bosses, yet the moment his eyes landed on Elena, the rest of the room ceased to exist. His gaze swept over the midnight-blue silk, his stormy gray eyes darkening with an unmistakable, possessive heat that made her skin burn.
He stepped away from his associates, meeting them at the bottom step. He didn't look at the twins first; he looked directly at Elena.
"The color suits you," Julian murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear over the low hum of the string quartet.
"You didn't have to buy me diamonds, Mr. Marchesi," she whispered back, acutely aware of the hundreds of eyes watching their interaction—especially Marcus’s, who stood near the champagne bar with a face like thunder.
"They aren't a gift, Elena," Julian replied, offering his hand to guide her off the final step. "They are armor. Tonight, I want every man in this room to understand that you belong to my household. And that anyone who looks at you twice answers to me."
Before she could process the weight of his words, Julian turned to the crowd, raising his crystal glass of champagne.
May you like
"Gentlemen," Julian’s voice rang out, commanding instant, absolute silence across the ballroom. "I toast tonight to family. To resilience. And to the certainty that those who attempt to break what is mine will find themselves buried in the foundations of this city."
The crowd raised their glasses in a synchronized wave. But as Elena looked across the room, she saw Marcus watching her over the rim of his champagne flute, his lips curved into a cold, triumphant smile that sent a spike of pure terror straight through her heart.
