Chapter 3
Alexander did not call for the staff. He did not ask for a discreet exit. He turned on his polished heel and walked directly toward the heavy, ornate service doors that opened into the grand ballroom.
He kicked the doors open with a violent, booming crash that echoed over the sophisticated music of the string quartet.
Alexander carried Sophia through the service doorway and stepped into the glittering, brilliantly lit ballroom. He did not slow his pace. He marched directly into the center of the crowd, his tailored dark suit smeared with alleyway dirt, a starving, barefoot child weeping against his chest.
The impact on the gala was instantaneous.
The lively music died in a discordant screech as the quartet halted their playing. The wealthy, fair-skinned guests froze mid-sentence, lowering their crystal champagne glasses in absolute, uncomprehending shock. The low hum of American accents was entirely severed.
At the far end of the room, standing beside a towering, multi-tiered celebration cake, was Victoria Sterling.
At seventy years old, Alexander’s mother was a formidable matriarch. She wore an elegant, sweeping evening gown, her neck and ears adorned with heavy, flawless pearl jewelry. Her high heels clicked softly as she shifted her weight. When the doors crashed open, she froze, her glass of champagne pausing halfway to her lips.
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There was no dialogue. The entire ballroom descended into a heavy, ringing silence. The guests parted like the Red Sea, creating a wide, clear path between the furious billionaire and his mother.
Alexander walked with measured, deliberate steps across the marble floor. His breathing was completely controlled, but the sheer, deeply masculine power radiating from his towering frame promised unspeakable violence. He stopped a few yards away from the cake, his cold, intimidating eyes locked entirely on Victoria.
