Chapter 9
"Guards," Nolan commanded. His deep, raspy voice echoed through the high ceilings of the music parlor, striking with the finality of a judge's gavel.
Instantly, the heavy oak doors burst open. Half a dozen white American adult men in professional dark suits flooded into the room. They were Nolan’s elite personal security, men fiercely loyal to the Ashford bloodline. They took one look at the devastation—the shattered sheet-music cabinet, the ruined engagement flowers, and the bleeding Wainwright siblings—and immediately drew their weapons, aiming them squarely at Marcus and Celeste.
"Boss," the lead bodyguard said, his voice crisp and professional. "Orders?"
"Secure the perimeter," Nolan said slowly, never taking his cold, intimidating eyes off Marcus. "Lock down the estate. No one enters or leaves without my express permission."
"Yes, sir," the guard nodded, gesturing for two men to move toward the windows while the others maintained their weapons on the targets.
Celeste scrambled to her knees, her white designer dress stained and ruined. "Nolan, you can't do this! My father has three hundred men in the city! If we don't return home tonight, he will send a strike team to this estate! You will start a bloodbath!"
"Let him send them," Nolan replied, his voice dead calm. He walked over to Celeste, towering above her. "You stole three years of my life. You stole the birth of my daughter. You enslaved the woman I love in my own home, and you allowed me to walk past her every single day without knowing who she was."
He leaned down, his sharply defined jawline tightening. "A bloodbath is exactly what I am hoping for."
"You're a dead man, Ashford," Marcus spat from the floor, though his fair skin was pale with terror.
"Take them to the holding cells in the basement," Nolan ordered his men, completely ignoring Marcus’s threat. "Bind them. Do not allow them to speak to each other. And strip them of their phones. I want the Wainwrights completely blind."
The bodyguards moved with ruthless efficiency. They hauled Marcus to his feet, twisting his arms painfully behind his back, ignoring his groans of agony. Two other guards grabbed Celeste by the arms, lifting her forcefully from the ruined flowers.
"Nolan, please!" Celeste shrieked as they dragged her toward the doorway. "I did it because I loved you! I did it for us!"
"You did it for power," Nolan corrected coldly. "And now, you have nothing."
May you like
Their screams faded down the long, marble corridors of the estate, leaving the music parlor in a heavy, ringing silence. Nolan stood alone in the center of the room amidst the scattered sheet music, broken glass, and crushed white petals.
He slowly turned around, facing the corner of the room where Mae stood clutching their daughter.
