Chapter 5
Diane’s aristocratic composure completely disintegrated. Realizing that the entire scheme had collapsed and that Cesare was now an unleashed predator, she panicked. Her eyes darted frantically around the room, landing on the small, trembling figure of Avice, who stood a few feet away, clutching the fabric of Cesare's trousers.
"This is all your fault!" Diane shrieked, her face twisting into a mask of pure hatred.
Diane lunged forward, grabbing Avice’s small arm with vicious, unyielding strength. She tried to drag the crying child toward the nearest exit, intending to use the five-year-old as a human shield to secure her escape from the museum.
"Let me go!" Avice screamed, her flats slipping on the carpet as she fought desperately against her great-aunt.
Cesare moved with blinding speed. He crossed the distance in two massive strides, his face carved from ice. He reached out and clamped his tattooed hand over Diane’s wrist. With a brutal, merciless twist, he tore Diane’s hand away from the child.
Before Diane could even utter a scream of pain, Cesare delivered one thunderous, open-handed slap across her face.
The impact sounded like a heavy wooden bat striking concrete. Diane spun backward, her elegant gala gown twisting around her legs. She flew into a lightweight coral-display sculpture positioned near the padded benches.
The delicate sculpture shattered instantly. Foam coral sections and painted resin scattered harmlessly across the carpet in a burst of bright, vivid colors. A folded exhibit screen behind the display collapsed with a clatter, blanketing the floor. Diane dropped heavily beside the padded bench, groaning in sheer agony, her pearl necklace broken and scattering across the room like small hailstones.
"Secure the room," Cesare ordered, his voice echoing with absolute authority.
May you like
The white American bodyguards, loyal entirely to the patriarch, moved with synchronized precision. They locked the heavy double doors of the donor lounge, standing in front of every exit with their hands resting firmly on their concealed weapons. The remaining guests huddled against the aquarium walls, terrified and completely trapped.
No dialogue broke the heavy, oppressive silence. Cesare stood over his fallen sister, his breathing steady, his artistic tattoos flexing as he slowly opened and closed his fists. He had dismantled the immediate physical threats in a matter of seconds, but the true psychological confrontation was only just beginning. The bright, cinematic lighting cast long shadows across the ruined exhibits, setting the stage for his absolute judgment.
