Hugo Fairholt took a glass of champagne to the face

The silence in the grand ballroom was shattered not by a gunshot, but by the simultaneous, heavy clatter of two firearms hitting the marble floor.

The two bodyguards didn't utter a single word. They simply unholstered their weapons, dropped them at Casper’s feet, and stepped widely aside, pressing their backs against the ivory-paneled wall. They knew a lost cause when they saw one. The coup had failed spectacularly, and their only hope for survival was absolute, immediate surrender.

Casper was entirely alone.

He stared down at the discarded guns, his chest heaving, blood dripping steadily from his nose onto his ruined suit. The fifty guests surrounding the banquet tables watched in stunned silence, realizing they were witnessing the final moments of a very brief rebellion.

"Smart men," Hugo noted, his voice a low rumble. He did not take his eyes off his cousin.

"Hugo, please," Casper begged, raising his hands in a placating gesture, his American accent cracking with sheer panic. "We are family! You can't do this in front of the commission! They won't allow a bloodbath at a charity event!"

"Do you believe the commission cares about the survival of a man who throws champagne like a petulant child?" Hugo asked, taking a slow, deliberate step forward.

His polished leather shoes made a crisp, echoing sound against the floor. He kept his left hand resting securely on the small of Giselle's back, guiding her with him, refusing to let her out of his immediate protective orbit.

"I have money! I have offshore accounts!" Casper babbled, backing away until his spine hit the edge of the overturned banquet table. "I can give you everything! Just let me walk out that door!"

"Is money supposed to compensate for treason, Casper?" Hugo inquired, his cold, observant eyes narrowing. "Or did you think my empire was so fragile it could be bought for a few million dollars?"

"It was the old men!" Casper shrieked, pointing a shaking, bloody finger at the older relatives who had laughed and recorded the initial assault. "They put me up to it! They said you were too soft! They said you were distracted by the help!"

Casper’s desperate, accusatory gaze landed directly on Giselle. The implication hung heavily in the air.

Hugo stopped. The tension in his broad shoulders pulled tight against the fabric of his dark suit. He looked at his cousin, the last remnants of familial tolerance extinguishing instantly in his chest.

"Did you just attempt to shift the blame onto the woman who broke your nose?" Hugo asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly whisper.

Before Casper could scramble for another excuse, the heavy mahogany double doors of the ballroom burst open.

Marcus, a towering man with a heavily scarred face and a dark trench coat, stormed into the room, flanked by six heavily armed tactical enforcers. They moved with absolute, silent precision, ignoring the lavish surroundings and focusing entirely on their boss.

"The perimeter is entirely secure, Boss," Marcus announced, his rough voice carrying over the silence. "The traitors at the gates have been neutralized. The estate is locked down."

"Will you escort my cousin to the holding cells in the sub-basement, Marcus?" Hugo asked, his eyes still fixed on the bleeding man. "Ensure he is kept alive. He has a lot of talking to do regarding his co-conspirators."

"No! Please!" Casper shrieked as two enforcers grabbed his arms, effortlessly hauling him away from the table. "Hugo! I'm your blood! You can't kill me!"