Chapter 8 - THE EXILE OF VANESSA
The force of Leo’s voice made Vanessa take two sudden, frantic steps backward, her high heels nearly slipping on the polished Carrara marble.
Leo didn't give her space to recover. He closed the distance between them in two massive, fluid strides, stopping just inches from her face. The cold, controlled crime boss was gone; in his place stood the protective father whose territory had been violated.
"Get out," Leo commanded flatly.
Vanessa’s eyes widened in shock. "Leo! You can't be serious! Our families have business together! Your mother invited me—"
"I don't give a damn who invited you," Leo interrupted, his baritone dropping into a deadly, unyielding whisper. "If your feet are still on my property in sixty seconds, my men will throw you into the bay. And if you ever come within a hundred yards of my son or Grace again... I will ruin your father's business by midnight."
Vanessa looked at Leo’s dark, unblinking eyes, realizing with a sudden, horrifying clarity that he meant every single word. The Vance syndicate didn't make empty threats.
She spun around on her high heels, her red silk evening dress flaring out around her ankles as she sprinted toward the main entrance doors, her diamond earrings clicking violently against her neck.
BOOM!
The heavy oak front doors slammed shut behind her, the echo vibrating through the grand living room.
Silence returned to the estate.
Margaret stood on the fifth stair, her face pale, her knuckles white around her silver cane. She looked at her son, realizing that her attempt to orchestrate a high-society marriage for him had completely collapsed in a matter of minutes.
Leo turned his back on the front entrance, walking slowly toward the staircase. He stopped at the bottom step, looking up at his mother.
"You are going to take the car to the Palm Beach house, Mother," Leo said smoothly, his voice devoid of anger now, carrying only absolute, unshakeable authority. "And you are going to stay there until I decide you are allowed to see your grandson again."
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Margaret opened her mouth to argue, her pride flaring, but when she saw the cold, iron resolve in her son’s eyes, she closed her mouth. She knew that pushing him further would result in her being completely cut off from the family.
Without saying another word, Margaret turned her back, her silver cane clicking sharply against the marble as she retreated up the stairs toward her quarters to pack.
