Chapter 5
The aftermath of the violent crash left the ballroom in a state of paralyzed terror. Michael and Jessica groaned on the marble floor, struggling to untangle themselves from the overturned banquet chairs and the slick, scattered shrimp. The bright, vivid colors of the party decorations now felt like a mocking backdrop to the absolute destruction of the Hayes family’s dignity.
From the periphery of the room, two heavily built bodyguards—men employed by the Hayes family—stepped out of the crowd. They wore dark suits and moved with trained precision, stepping directly behind the fallen Michael and Jessica. They reached toward their waistbands, clearly preparing to defend their employers against the veteran mafia boss.
Roland did not flinch. He slowly turned his head, his icy gaze locking onto the two guards. The sheer, overwhelming intimidation rolling off him stopped the men dead in their tracks. Their hands hovered over their holstered weapons, their fair, rosy skin turning pale as they realized that pulling a gun on Roland Carter would mean a guaranteed death sentence for everyone in the room.
Roland turned his attention back to Michael, who was slowly pushing himself up onto his elbows, wiping greasy broth from his face. Michael looked up at his father-in-law, his eyes filled with a toxic mixture of fear and deeply wounded pride.
Roland’s face became a mask of extreme, unadulterated anger. The muscles in his jaw ticked, and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were stark white against his signet ring.
"You think you can disrespect my blood?" Roland growled, his voice vibrating through clenched teeth, carrying clearly across the silent ballroom. "You think because I wear a suit instead of carrying a bat, I have forgotten how to ruin a man?"
"Roland, you've lost your mind," Michael spat, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. "You attack us in our own home? The commission will hear about this. You can't just act like a dictator anymore!"
"The commission answers to me," Roland said softly, taking one slow, deliberate step closer to the fallen man. "And as of this exact second, your entire miserable existence belongs to me."
Jessica began to weep openly, trying to brush the ruined shrimp off her formal outfit. "You are an animal! We are a respectable family!"
"Soon," Roland promised, his voice dropping to a lethal, chilling whisper that promised absolute eradication, "you won’t even have leftovers to eat."
He turned his back on them with utter disgust. Roland walked over to where Emily was kneeling on the floor, holding her two crying daughters. He reached down, offering his large, steady hand to his daughter. Emily took it, pulling herself up.
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"Bring the girls," Roland commanded softly, his tone shifting instantly from a roar to a protective, paternal warmth.
Emily lifted Olivia into her arms, while Roland effortlessly scooped up Megan, cradling the four-year-old against his broad chest. Without looking back at the wreckage of the Hayes family, Roland and Emily walked out of the ballroom. The sea of wealthy, terrified guests parted in absolute silence, watching the undisputed king of the city walk away, fully aware that a massive, bloody war had just been declared.
