Chapter 7
The immense kinetic force behind the blow was absolute. It lifted the thirty-nine-year-old woman completely out of her elegant heels. Victoria spun violently backward, entirely out of control, her formal outfit twisting awkwardly around her body.
She hurtled backward across the floor, flying directly toward the rolling silver tea trolley positioned near the center of the conservatory.
She crashed into the heavy metal structure with staggering force. The tall trolley overturned completely under her weight. Dozens of delicate porcelain teacups and saucers burst from their trays, shattering explosively against the stone tiles. Pristine white napkins fluttered through the air like a bizarre snowstorm. Empty silver serving trays clattered loudly, spinning across the floor in a chaotic avalanche of noise and destruction.
Victoria collapsed heavily among the scattered porcelain and overturned silver furniture. She gasped desperately for air, her heavy earrings swinging wildly as she clutched her rapidly swelling, bright red cheek. She lay in a pathetic, groaning heap, her engagement ring flashing mockingly under the cinematic lights.
There was no dialogue. The estate staff, the hardened bodyguards, and even Gloria stared in absolute, breathless horror. In less than fifteen seconds, the veteran Mafia boss had physically dismantled two high-ranking syndicate members without breaking a sweat, ensuring the absolute safety of his bloodline.
The bright, natural sunlight pouring through the glass roof illuminated the total devastation. It was a flawless summer afternoon, but the atmosphere inside the room was as cold as a morgue.
Silas stood perfectly still in the center of the wreckage. His dark, tailored suit remained unblemished. His breathing was completely even. He slowly lowered his right hand, the gold signet ring gleaming.
He did not look at Sterling, who was still unconscious in the dirt. He slowly turned his head. His cold, sharp, intimidating eyes locked directly onto Victoria.
Victoria pushed herself up onto her elbows, her porcelain skin scraped and bleeding from the shattered teacups. She looked up at the man she had planned to marry, and she finally saw the unadulterated, cold-blooded executioner staring back at her. The charming, romantic look was entirely gone, replaced by a monster prepared to burn the world down to protect his daughter.
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"Silas... please," Victoria whimpered, her American accent cracking into a pathetic, high-pitched whine. She pressed herself backward, sliding across the wet tiles, desperately trying to put distance between herself and his towering, deeply masculine frame. "It was an accident. I didn't know she was really sick. I was just trying to teach her discipline. We are getting married. We are going to build an empire together."
Silas slowly raised his eyes toward her. The silence in the room stretched until it felt as though the very air might shatter. He adjusted the cuffs of his unbuttoned black dress shirt, his gaze piercing straight through her cowardly soul.
