Chapter 8
"You crazy bitch!" Natalie screamed, her voice echoing wildly across the patio.
The thirty-year-old mistress charged out of the house, her fitted red dress clinging to her fair, rosy figure, her high heels clicking frantically against the stone pavers. She had seen Ryan fall, and the sight of her protector bleeding on the ground triggered a blind, irrational panic. Desperate to regain control of the situation and humiliate Emily, Natalie zeroed in on the most vulnerable target.
Natalie charged directly toward Ethan, her manicured hands reaching aggressively for the heavy metal chain securing him to the doghouse, intending to drag the screaming child away to reassert her dominance.
"No!" Ethan cried, shrinking back against the wooden doghouse in terror.
Emily moved with terrifying, fluid speed.
Before Natalie’s fingers could even brush the cold steel of the chain, Emily intercepted her. Emily’s hand shot out like a striking viper, grabbing Natalie’s wrist with a crushing, inescapable grip. She violently tore Natalie’s hand away from her son, halting the woman’s forward momentum instantly.
"Let go of me!" Natalie shrieked, struggling frantically against the Mafia boss’s iron grip. "He belongs to us!"
"He belongs to me," Emily whispered, her voice dropping to a freezing, absolute zero.
Without a fraction of a second's hesitation, Emily pulled her left hand back and delivered one thunderous, devastating open-handed slap directly across Natalie’s face.
The sound cracked through the silent patio like a whip.
The immense physical force of the slap sent Natalie spinning wildly on her heels. But Emily was not finished. Using the momentum, Emily planted her back foot, chambered her leg, and drove a powerful, flawless front kick directly into Natalie’s torso.
The kinetic energy of the kick was explosive. It launched the mistress completely backward, her high heels lifting entirely off the ground. She shot backward through the air, completely out of control, flying straight toward the patio doors where the towering stacks of expensive nursery gifts had been piled high for her baby shower.
Natalie crashed brutally into the massive mountain of stacked nursery gift boxes.
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The entire tower collapsed around her in a spectacular, chaotic avalanche. Exquisitely wrapped gift bags burst open upon impact. Clouds of bright pink and blue tissue paper exploded through the air, fluttering down like a festive snowstorm. Giant, plush stuffed animals tumbled across the stone floor. Dozens of shiny, curled ribbons wrapped around Natalie’s limbs as she crashed heavily beneath the scattered, ruined gifts.
Once again, no dialogue was spoken. The violence was precise, overwhelming, and absolute. Natalie lay groaning beneath a giant teddy bear, her fitted red dress torn, her fair skin bruised, entirely incapacitated by the true queen of the estate.
