Chapter 2
"Amara!" Gloria cried out, instantly abandoning her calm demeanor. The elderly woman pushed herself up from the wicker chair with a speed born of pure, maternal adrenaline. She rushed across the decorative stone tiles toward her granddaughter.
Amara collapsed onto her knees, her small chest heaving violently. The terrifying, high-pitched wheeze of a severe asthma attack echoed through the bright, sunlit conservatory. Her tiny hands fumbled desperately with the zipper of the small pouch hanging across her chest, but her fingers were trembling too much to retrieve the life-saving medication.
"Hold on, my sweet girl, Nana has it," Gloria said, dropping to her knees beside the struggling toddler. Her dark mahogany hands quickly unzipped the pouch and pulled out the small, plastic inhaler. "Just breathe, Amara. Look at me. Take a breath."
Victoria watched the scene unfold with a look of utter, contemptuous boredom. She took a slow sip from a crystal glass of sparkling water she had taken from the rolling silver tea trolley nearby. To her, the child was not a living, breathing human being in distress; she was merely an inconvenience, an obstacle standing between Victoria and total control over Silas Vance's vast empire.
Driven by a sudden, malicious impulse, Victoria stepped forward. Her stilettos clicked sharply against the tile.
Just as Gloria raised the inhaler toward Amara's lips, Victoria reached out and violently snatched the plastic device right out of the elderly woman's hand.
"What are you doing?!" Gloria shouted, her eyes widening in absolute shock.
Without a single ounce of hesitation or mercy, Victoria tossed the inhaler across the room. It skittered across the floor, bouncing off the tiles before sliding deep beneath a heavy, decorative stone table, entirely out of reach.
"My medicine!" Amara gasped out, tears streaming down her face as she fought a losing battle for oxygen.
Gloria scrambled forward on her hands and knees, desperately trying to reach under the heavy stone table to retrieve the device. "Have you lost your mind, Victoria? She can't breathe!"
As Gloria reached forward, Victoria stepped into her path. With a cruel, forceful shove, the thirty-nine-year-old woman pushed the seventy-two-year-old matriarch backward. Gloria lost her balance, stumbling back and falling heavily into the nearby wicker chair.
"Leave it alone, Gloria," Victoria commanded, standing tall over the gasping child and the stunned grandmother. The bright, cinematic lighting illuminated the vicious, arrogant sneer twisting her pale, porcelain features.
"You are killing her!" Gloria screamed, struggling to get back to her feet, her American accent thick with terror and rising fury.
Victoria let out a cold, sharp laugh that chilled the warm air of the conservatory. She looked down at the three-year-old girl, who was now clutching her throat, her lips beginning to turn a terrifying shade of blue.
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"Stop encouraging her little performance," Victoria said, her voice dripping with cruel, dismissive venom. "She’s just throwing a tantrum to get her father's attention. I am not going to let this household be held hostage by a spoiled brat."
Sterling stood a few feet away, watching the horrific scene with an amused smirk on his ruddy face. Neither of the Thorne siblings noticed the heavy mahogany doors of the adjoining council room slowly swinging open.
