Chapter 4
The absolute dismissal from the patriarch was the final snap of the wire. Edward’s cold, lifeless words hung in the grand dining hall, validating every ounce of Marguerite’s cruelty. The elite guests whispered among themselves, some shaking their heads in disapproval of Linnea’s supposed outburst, entirely blind to the starving, crying children standing by the wall.
Marguerite’s smile returned, wider and more venomous than before. She looked at Linnea, triumphant and dripping with arrogant satisfaction.
"You heard him, Lynn," Marguerite whispered, leaning in slightly, her heavy perfume nauseatingly strong. "Take your little mistakes and go wait in the kitchen. I'll have the staff bring you the fat trimmings when we are finished."
Linnea didn't blink. The mysterious, quiet woman was gone. The mother had been pushed entirely past the point of no return.
"Hold on to each other," Linnea commanded her children softly, her voice barely a breath.
Faye, Della, and Beckett instantly huddled together, terrified but obedient.
With blinding, explosive speed, Linnea moved. She reached out and snatched the empty porcelain plates directly from her children's trembling hands. She didn't pull her arm back to telegraph the strike. She simply twisted her torso, channeling every ounce of her maternal fury, and hurled the heavy plates directly at Marguerite’s smiling face.
The sound of the impact was horrific.
The thick porcelain shattered violently against Marguerite’s cheekbone and jaw. A spray of sharp white shards exploded outward like shrapnel.
"Ahhhh!" Marguerite screamed, a shrill, blood-curdling sound of sheer agony.
The kinetic force of the strike was devastating. Marguerite was physically lifted off her expensive heels. Her arms flailed wildly in the air as she spun backward, entirely out of control. Her elegant evening gown tangled around her legs as she stumbled.
She crashed directly into the sprawling banquet table where the elite guests were seated.
The collision was catastrophic. Marguerite’s heavy frame slammed into the oak table, collapsing the nearest chairs. Crystal wine glasses shattered instantly, spraying expensive red wine across the faces and immaculate suits of the screaming guests. Silver platters of prime rib were overturned, sending hot grease and heavy cuts of meat sliding across the Persian rug.
Marguerite collapsed entirely onto the table, taking the tablecloth down with her in a chaotic avalanche of ruined food, broken china, and screaming relatives. She lay groaning amidst the wreckage, blood pouring freely from her shattered cheek, her emerald gown soaked in wine and gravy.
The grand dining hall descended into absolute, horrified pandemonium. Guests leaped from their seats, shouting and wiping wine from their faces. Waiters froze in terror.
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"Marguerite!" Edward roared, jumping up from his chair at the head of the table, his paper birthday crown slipping off his head and falling to the floor. "What have you done?!"
Linnea stood perfectly still amidst the screaming chaos. She didn't look at the broken woman on the table. She simply turned her back on the wreckage, her face an unreadable mask of cold, terrifying stone, and knelt down beside her wide-eyed children.
