Chapter 6
Victor stumbled back half a step, staring at his throbbing wrist in sheer disbelief. The pain, rather than sobering him, only fueled his wounded, patriarchal pride. His fair, rosy skin flushed an even darker shade of rage. He could not comprehend that this woman was physically overpowering him.
"You think you can challenge me?" Victor bellowed, his voice echoing off the high stone walls of the estate. "I was breaking bones for this family before you were even born!"
"Then you should know better than to strike first," Serafina said, her stance widening slightly, her eyes locking onto his center of mass.
Blinded by fury and humiliation, Victor let out a guttural roar. He pulled back his right arm, throwing a heavy, wildly telegraphed punch aimed directly at Serafina’s head. It was a sloppy, emotional swing from a man whose best days of combat were decades behind him.
Serafina didn't even bother to block it with her hands.
She leaned slightly backward, letting the heavy fist slice through the air inches from her face. Using his own forward momentum against him, Serafina planted her left foot firmly in the manicured grass. She chambered her right leg and drove a powerful, devastating front kick directly into the center of Victor’s torso.
The heavy leather sole of her shoe connected squarely with his chest, right below his sternum.
The impact sounded like a bass drum being struck with a sledgehammer. All the breath detonated from Victor’s lungs in a violent, wet gasp.
The kinetic force lifted the sixty-seven-year-old man entirely off his polished shoes. He shot backward through the air like a ragdoll. He flew across the bright green lawn, completely airborne, until he slammed catastrophically into the freestanding canopy-supply frame that had been erected near the perimeter.
The metal framework groaned and buckled instantly under the massive impact. Heavy, canvas fabric canopy bags tore free from their iron hooks, spilling down in a cascade of thick, white material. Lightweight aluminum support poles snapped and scattered violently across the lawn, clattering loudly against the stone pathways.
Victor’s body crashed through the collapsing structure, his momentum finally arrested as he slammed hard against a heavy, padded garden bench. He collapsed against the cushions, sliding down until he was a crumpled, gasping heap on the grass, tangled in white canvas and broken metal poles.
Once again, the garden descended into absolute, terrifying silence. No dialogue was spoken. The guests stared in wide-eyed, paralyzed shock.
Serafina slowly lowered her leg, brushing a tiny piece of lint off her tailored trousers. She adjusted her suit jacket, ensuring it sat perfectly on her shoulders. She turned around to check on her children. Leo and Mia were huddled together, staring at their mother with a mixture of profound awe and fear.
"Are you both okay?" Serafina asked, her voice instantly returning to a warm, gentle, maternal tone.
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"Yes, Mommy," Mia whispered, clutching her brother's hand.
Serafina nodded. She turned back around to face the wreckage of the Bellandi men, her maternal warmth vanishing instantly, replaced once again by the cold, calculating eyes of a Mafia Boss.
