Chapter 5 - The Uninvited Guest
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The Ashford estate was a masterpiece of modern security hidden behind the facade of historic limestone. By sunset, the atmosphere in the house had shifted from quiet luxury to a rigid, militarized tension.
Damon stood in the grand foyer as the heavy mahogany doors swung open.
Silas Ashford walked in, flanked by two of his personal enforcers. He wore a sharp, custom-tailored suit that cost more than most cars. He carried a silver-tipped cane, an affectation he adopted after a supposed skiing accident, though rumors in the underworld suggested it was the result of a bad deal in Macau.
“Damon, brother,” Silas smiled smoothly, offering a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you out of the shadows. The board was beginning to think you had taken up permanent residence in a monastery.”
Dante didn’t return the smile. He gripped Silas’s hand, his eyes locking onto the webbing between Silas’s thumb and index finger. The dark green ink of a coiled serpent was barely visible beneath his tailored cuff.
“I’ve been busy,” Damon said coldly, releasing the grip.
“Yes, well, the shipping manifests require your signature,” Silas noted, handing his coat to a waiting butler. “The European routes are highly lucrative right now. We shouldn't let grief disrupt our profit margins forever.”
Damon’s jaw tightened. “My grief is my own business, Silas.”
As they walked toward the main dining room, Silas paused. He tilted his head, listening.
Faintly, drifting down from the upper levels of the estate, came the sound of a child’s laughter.
Silas’s brow furrowed. “I wasn't aware you were hosting families, Damon. Who is upstairs?”
“Just the new head housekeeper and her daughter,” Damon lied effortlessly, stepping into Silas’s line of sight. “She required on-site accommodations. Good help is hard to find.”
“A child in the Ashford estate,” Silas chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Elena always wanted a house full of them. What a tragedy she didn't live to see it.”
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The casual cruelty of the remark sent a spike of pure, unadulterated rage through Damon’s chest. He stared at his half-brother, the pieces of Zuri’s impossible story snapping firmly into place. The bad man with the snake.
“Let’s review the contracts in the dining room, Silas,” Damon said softly. “Before I lose my temper.”
