Chapter 7 - THE WRATH OF ASHFORD

"Drop the weapon, Sabrina, or the next bullet goes through your skull."
Vincent’s voice boomed through a megaphone, cutting through the tempest like the voice of a vengeful god.
Sabrina spun around, screaming in terror as a dozen heavily armed Ashford loyalists swarmed out of the tree line. Vincent strode through the pouring rain, oblivious to the cold, his face a mask of absolute, terrifying fury. He didn't look at the gun in Sabrina's hand; he looked only at Eleanor, kneeling in the mud.
Sabrina’s remaining guard dropped his weapon and fell to his knees in surrender.
"Vincent! She's a thief!" Sabrina shrieked, desperately trying to salvage her lie. "She was breaking into my room!"
Vincent walked right past Sabrina, snatching the pistol from her trembling hand and tossing it into the grass. He dropped to his knees in the mud in front of Eleanor. He stripped off his heavy wool coat and wrapped it tightly around her shivering shoulders.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his hands cupping her freezing face. His thumbs gently brushed the wet, jagged ends of her hair.
"I'm fine," Eleanor whispered, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out the black ledger and the velvet pouch, pressing them into Vincent's chest. "She's working with the Morettis. She has the estate blueprints. And... she's the one who has been poisoning Julian."
Vincent went perfectly still. The world around them seemed to stop. He looked down at the ledger, then at the vials, and finally, he looked back up at Eleanor.
"You knew about Julian?" Vincent’s voice was barely a breath.
"I've been taking care of him for three years," Eleanor confessed softly. "Your father tasked me with his safety before he died. I am the only one whose biometric print opens the East Wing. I had to let her think she was winning, Vincent. I had to let her humiliate me to get the proof."
Vincent slowly stood up, pulling Eleanor with him and tucking her safely behind his broad back. When he turned back to Sabrina, the man who had just tenderly wrapped a coat around a maid was gone.
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In his place stood the Devil of New York.
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