Chapter 4 - The Shadow King’s Vow
By six o'clock the following morning, the news of the Vance family scandal had exploded across every major television station and social media network in the country. The video footage of Cordelia Vance shoving pregnant Della Marsh into the gilded mirror went viral, sparking massive public outrage. Share prices for Vance Logistics dropped by seventy percent within two hours of the stock market opening.
Inside the quiet luxury of St. Jude's Private Hospital, Della sat near the window, watching the sunrise over the city skyline. On the bedside table sat a silver tray filled with fresh tropical fruits, organic pastries, and warm tea.
The door opened softly, and Royce stepped inside. He had changed into a tailored navy suit, looking impeccably sharp despite having slept only a few hours. Behind him, two guards carried several large shopping bags from high-end boutiques.
"Good morning, Della," Royce said gently, his aura completely softening as he approached her. "How did you sleep?"
"I... I slept better than I have in years," Della admitted, looking at the mountain of gift bags. "Mr. Calloway, what is all this?"
"Call me Royce," he corrected, pulling up a chair beside her. "And these are just a few essentials. Clothes, comfortable shoes, and soft maternity wear. You won't be returning to your old apartment."
Della’s eyes widened. "What do you mean? My rent is paid until the end of the month—"
"Your old apartment was a third-floor walk-up in a dangerous neighborhood with broken heating," Royce said firmly. "You are pregnant and recovering from an attack. My team has already packed your personal belongings. You will be staying at my estate in the North Hills."
Della gasped, shaking her head frantically. "No, no! I can't do that! That's too much! You've already paid my hospital bills and saved my life twice. I can't move into your house. What will people say? I'm just a waitress!"
Royce reached out and took her hands in his. His grip was warm and steady. "Listen to me, Della. Five years ago, when I was bleeding in that dark alley, you didn't ask if I was rich or poor. You didn't care about my reputation or my enemies. You saved my life without asking for a single thing in return. Everything I own today—my wealth, my empire, my life—exists because of you."
Della looked down at their joined hands, tears gathering in her eyes. "I was just doing what was right..."
"And now I am doing what is right," Royce said, his eyes burning with intense conviction. "You and your child are under my protection now. As long as I draw breath, no one will ever look down on you, threaten you, or cause you pain again. That is my vow to you."
Before Della could respond, a knock came at the door. Marcus entered, holding an encrypted tablet.
"Boss, we have an update on Cordelia Vance," Marcus reported. "The police issued an arrest warrant an hour ago based on the security footage. However, when officers arrived at the Vance estate, she wasn't there."
Royce’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Where is she?"
"Her father, Harlan, managed to leak her out of the city using a private vehicle. We believe she is hiding at the estate of Victor Falcone in the Southern District."
The room temperature seemed to drop instantly. At the mention of Victor Falcone, even Marcus looked visibly uneasy.
Della looked between the two men, confused. "Who is Victor Falcone?"
Royce stood up, his jaw set in a hard, dangerous line. "Victor Falcone is my primary rival in the city's underground operations. He is a ruthless man who has been trying to take over my territory for a decade. If Cordelia went to him, it means Harlan Vance has sold what's left of his soul to my worst enemy."
"Should I send a team to fetch her, Boss?" Marcus asked.
"No," Royce said coldly. "Victor wants a war. If he thinks hiding a spoiled socialite gives him leverage over me, he is severely mistaken. Let them think they have the upper hand. In the meantime, prepare the limousine. We are taking Della home."
Twenty minutes later, Della was safely escorted out of the hospital through a private underground exit. A convoy of three black armored SUVs escorted them through the city, heading toward the exclusive, gated estate district in North Hills.
When the heavy iron gates opened to reveal the Calloway Mansion—a sprawling, historic stone estate surrounded by lush gardens and fountains—Della lost her breath. It looked like a castle from a fairy tale.
"Is this... where you live?" she asked, staring in awe.
"Where we live," Royce corrected gently, opening the car door for her.
As Della stepped onto the stone driveway, the chief housekeeper, a kindly older woman named Mrs. Higgins, bowed respectfully. "Welcome home, Miss Della. Your suite on the second floor has been fully prepared according to Mr. Calloway's instructions."
Della felt overwhelmed, but as Royce offered her his arm, a sense of safety settled deep in her heart. For the first time in her life, she wasn't running from poverty or fear.
However, far across the city, in a dimly lit underground penthouse, Cordelia Vance sat crying, sipping scotch beside a scarred, middle-aged man holding a glass of bourbon.
Victor Falcone smiled darkly, watching the news broadcast showing Royce Calloway’s convoy entering the North Hills estate.
"So..." Victor purred, his voice dripping with venom. "The stone-cold Royce Calloway finally has a weakness. A pregnant waitress with a scar."
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Cordelia gritted her teeth in rage. "I want her destroyed, Victor! I want her to lose everything!"
"Patience, my dear," Victor chuckled darkly, pouring another drink. "A king is easiest to kill when he is busy protecting his queen."
