Chapter 8
The heavy, polished oak doors of the grand ballroom slammed shut with a resounding, metallic clack. The sound of the deadbolts engaging echoed through the hall, sending a fresh wave of panic through the wealthy American guests. The bright, cinematic daylight pouring through the high windows offered no escape. They were trapped in a luxurious, beautifully lit cage with a Mafia boss who had just declared open season on treason.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dominic Cole’s voice boomed across the room, carrying the seasoned, gravelly authority of a man who had orchestrated countless purges. "Please remain exactly where you are. Keep your hands visible. Anyone attempting to use a mobile device will be considered a hostile threat."
Instantly, the dozen or so guests who had been recording the incident hurriedly lowered their phones, stuffing them into pockets and clutch purses with trembling hands.
Elena turned away from Eleanor. She walked slowly back to the velvet staircase, her gold gown shimmering under the chandelier glow. She knelt down on the damp marble and gently scooped little Lily into her arms. The child was still shivering from the ice water, her white formal dress clinging to her tiny frame.
"I've got you, baby," Elena murmured warmly, kissing the top of Lily's wet head.
"Mommy, you hit him really hard," Lily whispered, burying her face into her mother's neck.
"I did," Elena agreed softly, standing up while holding the child securely against her hip. "And he is never going to bother us again. Let's get you warm."
Elena walked over to a nearby table and pulled a thick, pristine white linen tablecloth from it, careless of the crystal glasses that shattered as they hit the floor. She wrapped the heavy fabric tightly around her daughter, swaddling her to stop the shivering.
"Dominic," Elena said, turning her sharp gaze back to her capo.
"Boss," Dominic replied, stepping to her side.
"Take their phones," Elena ordered, gesturing toward the crowd. "I want every single device in this room confiscated and wiped. The Sterling family handles its business privately. I will not have footage of my daughter circulating on the street."
"Understood," Dominic nodded. He signaled to the heavily armed bodyguards stationed along the walls. The men in dark suits immediately moved into the crowd, systematically collecting smartphones from the terrified, compliant guests.
Elena then turned her attention back to the wreckage on the floor. Richard was finally beginning to stir beneath the collapsed champagne tower, groaning loudly as he tried to push a heavy silver tray off his chest.
"Bring him to the center of the room," Elena commanded coldly.
Two massive bodyguards marched over to the debris. They hauled Richard roughly to his feet by the lapels of his ruined tuxedo. Blood poured from his nose, staining his crisp white shirt. They dragged him across the polished marble and forced him to his knees directly in front of Elena.
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"Elena, you have made your point," Richard coughed, spitting blood onto the pristine floor. His arrogant bravado was completely shattered. "Let us go. We will leave the city."
"You are not going anywhere, Richard," Elena whispered, her eyes devoid of any human mercy. "We are going to have a long conversation about exactly who else was involved in this little coup of yours."
