Chapter 5
The silence in the grand dining room was absolute, save for Julian’s ragged, wheezing breaths against Nia’s neck. Arthur stood perfectly still in the doorway, his pale eyes narrowing. Eleanor watched from the center of the room, her pearl-white dress looking ghostly under the bright lights. They were all waiting to see if the newly crowned queen would break under the weight of the old dynasty.
Victoria, emboldened by Nia's initial lack of retaliation and completely misreading the terrifying stillness in her sister's posture, sneered.
"You hear me?" Victoria spat, adjusting her diamond choker. "You're a placeholder, Nia. Preston is the future. Your boy is nothing."
Victoria planted her black patent heels, pulled her arm back, and swung again, aiming to strike Nia's face a second time.
But Nia was not the scared adopted daughter anymore. She was the boss, forged in the blood and fire of a criminal empire.
With Julian held securely against her left side, Nia moved with blinding, fluid speed. She slipped outside the arc of Victoria’s strike, her metallic stilettos shifting perfectly on the Persian carpet to pivot her body weight. Victoria’s hand swung through empty air, her momentum throwing her completely off balance.
Before Victoria could recover, Nia’s right arm coiled and released. She drove one explosive, devastating counterpunch directly across Victoria’s face.
The impact was sickening. Bone crunched under the force of Nia’s knuckles. Victoria’s eyes rolled back instantly, the breath violently expelled from her lungs.
The sheer kinetic force of the blow lifted Victoria completely off her feet. She spun wildly backward, her ruby-red velvet dress blurring as she careened uncontrollably across the room.
She slammed violently into the freestanding wooden chess table.
The heavy, antique wooden top flipped entirely sideways under her weight. Intricately carved wooden chess pieces exploded across the carpet like shrapnel, bouncing off the walls and rolling under the furniture. The force of the crash caused two nearby upholstered dining chairs to slide violently apart, screeching against the hardwood floor.
Victoria crashed into a heap beside the collapsed table, her limbs tangled in the ruby velvet. She did not move. A thin line of blood began to pool at the corner of her mouth, staining her rosy skin.
There was no dialogue. No screams of shock. The Capos and bodyguards who had begun to spill out from the council room froze in their tracks, staring in absolute, stunned horror at the destruction.
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Nia stood perfectly balanced, her right hand slowly unclenching. Her emerald green gown was undisturbed, save for where Julian clutched it. She didn't look at Victoria’s unconscious body. She didn't look at Arthur, whose face had drained of all color.
She adjusted Julian in her arms, ensuring his airway was as open as possible, and took a slow, deep breath, reigning the beast back into its cage.
