Chapter 3 - The Ghost from the Past
My pulse hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. The entire ballroom seemed to tilt on its axis, every single pair of eyes locked onto the mafia boss kneeling before a penniless college student.
"No," I managed to choke out, my throat tight with confusion. "I didn't. My mother did. Years ago."
Daniel closed his eyes tightly, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth. When he opened them again, a glistening film of moisture coated his dark irises. The ruthless, iron-fisted king of Chicago's underworld looked suddenly vulnerable, shattered by a memory buried beneath decades of blood, ambition, and power.
"Elena," Daniel whispered, the name escaping his lips like a prayer.
My heart skipped a beat. "What did you say?"
"Elena," he repeated louder, standing up with sudden, fluid grace. He ignored the whispers spreading like wildfire through the crowd. He looked down at me with an intensity that made my knees weak. "That dress... your mother... was her name Elena Bennett?"
I stared at him in utter bewilderment. "Yes. How... how could you possibly know my mother's name?"
Before Daniel could answer, Victoria Ashford pushed her way forward through the parting crowd, her face twisted in a mixture of panic and righteous indignation. "Daniel, this is absurd! You’re making a scene over a beggar in a thrift-store rag! Security should throw her out—!"
Daniel didn't even turn his head. He shot his left hand out, grabbing Victoria by the throat with terrifying speed, lifting her an inch off the marble floor before slamming her back against the nearest pillar with a dull, sickening thud.
The entire ballroom gasped in synchronized terror. Several women screamed, covering their mouths.
"If you ever speak in that tone of voice in my presence again," Daniel murmured, his voice deadly, smooth, and laced with absolute venom, "I will have you stripped of every title, asset, and credit card you possess, and drop you in the middle of Lake Michigan before sunrise. Do you understand me?"
Victoria whimpered, clawing frantically at his wrist, unable to force a single word past her pale lips. Daniel released her with a disgusted shove, sending her sprawling ignominiously onto the floor into the arms of her panicked husband.
Daniel turned back to me, his terrifying demeanor vanishing instantly as his eyes met mine. The gentleness in his expression was jarring.
"Marcus," Daniel barked, never breaking eye contact with me.
"Yes, Boss?" Marcus stepped forward instantly.
"Clear the ballroom. Now. Every single one of them. Send them home."
"Boss, the investors—the city councilmen—"
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"I said clear the room," Daniel roared, a sound so primal and absolute that the entire crowd began scrambling backward toward the exit doors in absolute panic, tripping over their own expensive gowns in their rush to escape.
Within ninety seconds, the cavernous Grand Meridian ballroom was completely empty, save for Daniel, his security team, and me standing paralyzed in the center of the vast marble floor.
