Chapter 5
The silence in the garage was absolute, heavy with the weight of the impending storm. The cinematic lighting seemed to focus entirely on the space between the Mafia boss and his arrogant cousin. Carmine Bellucci did not raise his voice. He did not issue a threat.
He moved with blinding, explosive speed.
Before Helena could even blink, Carmine raised his right hand. Utilizing the immense, terrifying strength of his broad shoulders, he delivered one thunderous, devastating open-handed slap directly across Helena’s powdered face.
The sound of the impact cracked like a gunshot through the massive garage, echoing off the high ceilings and the luxury vehicles.
The sheer kinetic force of the blow lifted the forty-two-year-old woman completely off her designer heels. Her eyes widened in sheer, breathless shock as she spun violently sideways, completely losing all control of her body.
She hurtled through the bright, sunlit air, flying directly toward the massive rolling automotive-detailing rack positioned beside her luxury vehicle.
She crashed into the heavy metal structure with the force of a wrecking ball.
The impact was catastrophic. The heavy detailing rack rocketed violently backward, its wheels skidding aggressively across the concrete before it slammed brutally into the solid garage wall behind it. The metal frame buckled and shrieked under the pressure.
Hundreds of brightly colored microfiber towels exploded from the upper shelves, flying through the air like a vibrant, chaotic snowstorm. Thick, heavy polishing pads scattered violently across the polished floor. Dozens of empty plastic spray bottles tumbled everywhere, bouncing off the concrete with sharp, clattering sounds. Heavy, stiff wheel brushes fell like rain around Helena’s head and shoulders.
Finally, the stacked, heavy cardboard car-care boxes on the top tier lost their balance. They collapsed outward, cascading over Helena and burying her as she dropped heavily to the floor beside the overturned detailing rack.
May you like
There was no dialogue. The overwhelming, brutal reality of the violence silenced every single person in the room.
Carmine stood in the exact spot where he had struck her, his chest rising and falling with slow, perfectly controlled breaths. He slowly lowered his hand, his heavy family signet ring catching the bright light. He did not look at the ruined woman buried in the towels and boxes. He stood like an immovable monument of wrath, absolute and undisputed.
