Chapter 6 - The Ejection of Richard Caldwell
The sound of Richard’s back colliding with the solid marble rang out through the grand room like a crack of wood. Wine glasses rattled on the dining table. A few guests gasped and stood up, but a single glare from Marco warned them back into their seats.
"Nicholas, please!" Richard choked out, his hands clawing uselessly at Nicholas’s leather-clad grip around his windpipe. His eyes bulged with pure, unadulterated terror as he stared into the dark, cold eyes of the mafia boss. "I've served... served your family... for ten years!"
"And for ten years, I tolerated your arrogance because you kept my house running," Nicholas growled, his grip tightening just enough to restrict Richard's air. "I knew you were cruel to the staff. I knew you were a tyrant when my back was turned. But I thought you had sense."
Nicholas leaned in close, his voice dropping so low only Richard could hear the absolute malice in it.
"You put a child out in the snow to freeze to death on Christmas Eve. In my house. On my land."
"She... she's just a maid..." Richard wheezed, gasping for oxygen.
Nicholas’s eyes flashed with a lethal light. He dragged Richard away from the fireplace and threw him hard onto the polished wood floor. Richard hit the ground with a painful thud, coughing violently as he clutched his neck.
Nicholas stood over him, looking down at the groveling man with absolute disgust. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a gold-plated fountain pen, and tossed it onto the floor beside Richard.
"You have five minutes," Nicholas said coldly. "Gather your things and get out."
"Mr. Grimaldiro, it's a blizzard!" Richard pleaded, crawling backward on his hands and knees, tears of fear finally spilling down his cheeks. "I don't have a car here! The roads are closed! I'll freeze!"
Nicholas tilted his head slightly, a dark, terrifying smile touching the corner of his lips.
"Then I suggest you start walking, Richard. Just like you made Elena do."
"No! Please! Have mercy!"
Nicholas turned to Marco. " escort Mr. Caldwell to the gates. Strip his coat. Take his shoes. Give him a light jacket—the thin one Miss Turner was wearing. If he steps foot on Grimaldiro property ever again, put a bullet through his knee."
"With pleasure, Boss," Marco said, stepping forward with two large security guards. They grabbed Richard under his arms, dragging him kicking and screaming down the grand hallway, his desperate pleas fading into the distance until the heavy side door slammed shut once more.
The dining room remained in dead silence. None of the wealthy guests dared to move or speak. The illusion of a refined Christmas dinner had been completely shattered, replaced by the brutal reality of who Nicholas Grimaldiro truly was.
Nicholas didn't care about their opinions. He turned away from the table, completely ignoring the city leaders and business moguls, and walked over to the sofa where I lay shivering.
Dr. Vance, the family physician who had just arrived through the back entrance, was already kneeling beside me, checking my pulse and wrapping warm thermal blankets around my trembling body.
"How is she?" Nicholas asked, his tone shifting instantly from deadly violence to quiet concern.
"Severe hypothermia and minor frostbite on her fingers and toes," Dr. Vance reported, placing an oxygen mask gently over my mouth. "She came dangerously close to cardiac arrest, Nicholas. Ten more minutes out there, and she would have been dead."
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Nicholas closed his eyes for a brief moment, a tight muscle flexing in his jaw. When he opened them, he looked down at me, taking my numb hand into his warm palm once again.
"Get her upstairs to the master suite," Nicholas ordered softly. "Set up a full medical station. She doesn't leave this house until she is completely healed."
