Chapter 3 - Blood Is Thicker Than Poison"Get them downstairs," Declan commanded, his voice dropping into a register so cold it made the air in the room feel brittle. He didn't look at Emma when he spoke, but his hand gripped her shoulder with a fierce, possessive pressure. "Take the girls to the panic room in the east wing. Lock the heavy steel door. Do not open it for anyone—not even me, unless I give the password."
"What password?" Emma asked.
“Veritas,” Declan said, his jaw locked so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. “Latin for truth. If someone else asks, shoot through the reinforced glass.”
Before Emma could process the gravity of the order, Declan scooped both twins into his arms. They buried their faces in his neck, finally safe from the phantom buzzing that had tortured them for two months. Emma led them down the winding mahogany staircase, past the silent, opulent portraits of the Shaw dynasty, down to the subterranean corridor hidden behind a false bookcase.
When the heavy steel door slammed shut with a hydraulic hiss, sealing the girls inside a sanctuary of soft lighting and plush couches, Emma turned to face the mafia boss.
"You know who put it there," she said flatly.
Declan didn't deny it. He pulled a heavy silver lighter from his pocket, flicked it open, and watched the tiny flame dance before snapping it shut.
"Meredith handled the nursery decor after my wife passed away," Declan said, his voice dangerously low. "She told me she wanted to spoil them. She said she missed having a family of her own. But Meredith isn't just an eccentric aunt. Six months ago, the family board tried to oust me. Meredith voted against me. I thought she backed down when I threatened to cut her out of the trust fund."
He looked down at the black circuit board resting in Emma's palm.
"She didn't back down. She didn't want my money. She wanted my daughters to lose their minds. A crazy father loses custody. A mentally unstable household means the family court appoints a guardian ad litem—someone like Meredith—to manage the estate and the corporate shares."
Emma’s breath hitched. "She was driving your children insane on purpose to steal your empire?"
Declan didn't answer with words. He walked over to his mahogany desk, pulled open a hidden drawer, and drew out a heavy, matte-black Glock 19. He checked the magazine with a sharp, metallic click.
"Come with me," Declan ordered, grabbing a heavy leather jacket.
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"Where?"
"To my sister’s house. We’re going to ask her why she gave my daughters a monster."
