Chapter 3
The bright, cinematic colors of the ballroom seemed to freeze in time. The elegant, slightly warm golden ambiance offered no comfort to the shivering child on the floor.
At the very top of the sweeping velvet staircase, Elena Moretti Sterling unexpectedly appeared.
At twenty-six years old, Elena was a vision of absolute, terrifying power. She was incredibly beautiful, yet she radiated an intimidating, lethal aura befitting the boss of the Sterling organization. She wore a breathtaking, elegant gold formal gown that draped flawlessly over her fair, rosy skin. Heavy diamond earrings sparkled in the bright chandelier light, and the heavy family signet ring rested firmly on her hand alongside an expensive wristwatch.
Elena stepped up to the railing and stopped cold.
Her cold, penetrating eyes swept across the ballroom, instantly analyzing the catastrophic scene below. She saw the raised smartphones. She saw her uncle Richard smirking in his tuxedo. She saw Eleanor standing tall in her emerald gown. And then, her gaze locked onto the tiny, soaked figure trembling violently on the marble floor.
The air in the room was sucked into a vacuum. No one dared to breathe.
Elena did not shout. She did not lose her composure. Instead, she moved with blinding, fluid speed. She rushed down the velvet staircase, her high heels making sharp, rhythmic, clicking sounds that echoed like gunshots in the dead silent room.
The crowd parted instantly, practically throwing themselves out of her path.
Elena reached the bottom of the stairs and dropped gracefully to her knees on the wet marble, entirely disregarding the expensive silk of her gold formal gown. She reached out with her bare arms and lifted Lily from the freezing puddle. She pulled the shivering child tightly against her chest, wrapping the young girl securely inside the thick, warm, golden fabric of her own gown.
"I have you. I have you, my beautiful girl," Elena whispered, her American accent low, fierce, and fiercely protective.
Lily buried her wet, rosy face into Elena’s neck, her tiny body trembling uncontrollably from the ice water and the sheer terror of the assault. She clung to her mother's dress with desperate, white-knuckled fingers.
"Mommy…" Lily cried, her tiny voice breaking the suffocating silence of the ballroom. Tears streamed down her cold cheeks. "I don’t want to clean for Grandma anymore."
Elena closed her eyes for a fraction of a second. When she opened them, the warm, protective mother had vanished entirely. In her place was the ruthless, terrifying leader of a criminal empire who had just witnessed an unforgivable act of treason.
"You will never have to clean anything again, my sweet girl," Elena murmured softly into Lily’s ear.
She stood up slowly, holding her daughter securely in her left arm. She turned her head, her beautiful, angular face setting into a mask of pure, lethal stone. Her cold eyes locked onto Richard and Eleanor.
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"You have made a grave miscalculation," Elena said. Her voice was not raised, but the quiet, deadly resonance carried to the very back of the hall.
Richard’s smirk faltered for a moment, but his arrogant pride pushed him forward. "You are the one who miscalculated, Elena. You thought you could parade around as a boss while neglecting the respect owed to your elders."
