Chapter 4
The sudden, brutal violence left Rosalind completely paralyzed. The sixty-four-year-old woman stood frozen by the worktable, her mouth agape in absolute horror as she watched her son slump against the padded bench. The bodyguards by the door did not move a single muscle; they stood like statues, entirely loyal to the woman in the tailored suit.
Damon tasted blood. The fair, rosy skin of his jaw was already swelling with an angry purple bruise. Humiliated, enraged, and driven by blind adrenaline, he pushed himself upright from the bench.
"You bitch!" Damon roared, his voice cracking.
He lunged forward, charging at Viviana with both arms outstretched, intent on tackling her to the hardwood floor.
Viviana stood perfectly still for a fraction of a second. Her eyes tracked his sloppy, enraged movement. Without missing a beat, she reached out and grabbed the shallow metal paint tray resting on the worktable. The tray was filled with thick, dark oil paint that Damon had forced Oliver to use.
As Damon closed the distance, Viviana swung the metal paint tray in a tight, brutal arc and struck it flat across his face.
The heavy metal collided with his nose with a sickening crunch. Thick, dark paint splashed violently over his cheeks, his forehead, and his crisp white dress shirt. Damon let out a muffled shriek of pain and shock, instantly blinded by the heavy pigment. He stumbled backward, his hands clawing at his face, and fell heavily back onto the padded bench.
He writhed against the upholstery, leaving dark, smeared streaks across the expensive fabric. Paint dripped in heavy globs from his chin and his ruined cuffs. He finally managed to wipe enough paint from his eyes to look up at her, his expression a mixture of sheer terror and agonized defeat.
Rosalind, terrified by the ruthless display of force, slowly retreated, backing away toward the worktable until her hips hit the wood. She did not dare speak.
Viviana casually set the dented metal tray back down onto the worktable. The cinematic sunlight caught the flawless contours of her fair face. She was completely unharmed, her breathing perfectly steady. She raised her left hand, her fingers gripping the heavy diamond wedding ring that bound her to the pathetic man bleeding on the bench.
With a slow, deliberate pull, Viviana removed her wedding ring. She held it over the metal tray and dropped it into the remaining pool of dark paint. It sank with a quiet, final thud.
Viviana kept her cold, sharp eyes locked onto Damon. Oliver remained safely with the nanny behind the impenetrable wall of her bodyguards.
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"You wanted me erased," Viviana whispered, her voice quiet, lethal, and absolute. "Now watch yourself disappear."
Damon looked from the ruined ring in the paint tray to the towering bodyguards blocking the exit, the true horror of his situation finally sinking in.
