Chapter 2 - The Scars We CarryThe silence in the opulent suite stretched so tight it felt like a piano wire pulled to its absolute limit. Willa’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She could feel the hard, calloused pad of Kendrick’s thumb resting just beneath her jawline—a touch that could either stroke gently or snap her neck with effortless ease.
She forced herself not to blink, drawing upon the six years of iron-willed discipline she had cultivated in the gutter.
"I don't know, Mr. Ashford," Willa replied, her voice remarkably steady despite the terror clawing at her throat. "Children are unpredictable. Animals too. Maybe they just wanted a change of scenery from the perfection downstairs."
A slow, humorless smile touched the corners of Kendrick's mouth. It didn't reach his eyes.
"Perfection," he repeated, tasting the word as if it were bitter ash. "Downstairs is a parade of expensive meat and ambition wrapped in silk. They want what my name can buy them. They want the crown, but none of them have the stomach for the blood it takes to polish it."
He dropped his hand, stepping back just enough to give her space, though his presence still completely dominated the room.
Down by his side, little Penny tugged gently on Willa's hand, pulling her toward the deep velvet sofa. The little girl climbed up, patting the cushion beside her with an air of absolute authority that was hauntingly similar to her father's.
"Sit," Penny whispered. It was the first word she had spoken all evening.
Willa’s breath caught. According to the whispers among the catering staff, Kendrick Ashford’s daughter had been completely mute since the night her mother died in a suspicious car bombing three years ago. Medical specialists from across the globe had flown in, only to leave shaking their heads. Yet here she was, speaking clearly to a random waitress.
Slowly, almost mechanically, Willa lowered herself onto the sofa next to the child.
Titan immediately ambled over, dropping his massive, wrinkled head right across Willa’s lap with a heavy sigh. The sheer weight of the mastiff pinned her in place, a living, breathing anchor.
Kendrick watched the interaction, his eyes dark and analytical. He reached into his vest pocket, withdrew a silver cigar cutter, and flipped it open and closed.
"Three years," Kendrick said quietly, his gaze fixed on his daughter. "She hasn't spoken a full sentence to a living soul since the winter of twenty-three. Not to her therapists, not to her aunts, not even to me. And yet, the moment a clumsy waitress with a stained uniform walks into her line of sight, my daughter finds her voice."
"Children latch onto strangers sometimes," Willa said carefully, keeping her hands flat on Titan’s warm back. "It doesn't mean anything. I'm sure tomorrow she'll go right back to normal."
"Nothing about my life is normal, Miss..." Kendrick paused, raising an eyebrow. "You never did give me your full name downstairs. Just nobody."
"Willa," she answered instantly, having practiced the lie so many times it felt like muscle memory. "Willa Hayes. I work the night shifts for Continental Catering. I keep my head down, I do my job, and I go home."
"A simple life," Kendrick remarked, taking a step closer. He leaned down slightly, resting his palms on the back of the sofa, boxing her in between his broad shoulders and the little girl. The faint scent of expensive bourbon, cedar, and gunpowder washed over her. "Too simple to be standing in the inner sanctum of the Ashford Syndicate's eighty-eighth floor while a dozen syndicate heirs throw tantrums outside."
"I was brought here against my will, Mr. Ashford," Willa countered, her tone hardening just a fraction as righteous indignation momentarily cut through her fear. "If your associate Barrett hadn't thrown a fit and tried to have me thrown out by armed guards, I would be downstairs packing up my serving tray right now."
A sharp bark of dry laughter escaped Kendrick’s lips.
"Barrett is a fool," Kendrick said smoothly. "An ambitious, overreaching fool who thinks marrying his niece into my family will give him a seat at the head of the table. He hates being humiliated. And you humiliated him in front of every major syndicate boss on the Eastern Seaboard."
"I didn't do anything!"
"You breathed, Willa Hayes. And sometimes, that's enough to start a war." Kendrick straightened up, sliding his hands back into his pockets. He glanced at the wall clock. "It's late. The ballroom is clearing out. Barrett and his cronies are already plotting how to ruin you before sunrise."
Willa felt a chill run down her spine. "Then let me leave. Dismiss me. No one will ever see me again."
Kendrick walked toward the heavy oak doors of his study, pausing with his hand on the brass knob. He didn't look back.
"You leave when I say you leave," he said, his voice dropping to a lethal register. "Until then, consider yourself my daughter's new permanent guest. Try to run, and Titan won't just track you down—he'll enjoy the exercise."
May you like
The door clicked shut.
Willa sat frozen in the opulent prison, while little Penny leaned her head against Willa’s shoulder, closing her pale gray eyes as if she were finally safe.
