Chapter 4
The dining room erupted into absolute, unbridled chaos.
"Mother!" Derek screamed, leaping from his chair.
Guests scrambled backward, their chairs screeching against the floorboards as they desperately tried to escape the splash zone of the ruined dinner. The bright, cinematic lighting caught the vivid red of the marinara sauce splattered across the pristine white walls, looking violently like blood against the pale paint.
"My eyes! It's burning my eyes!" Martha wailed from the floor, writhing in the slick mess of pasta and shattered crystal, her elegant top completely ruined.
In the fraction of a second that Derek’s attention was diverted by his screaming mother, Nash moved. The four-year-old bolted toward the kitchen archway, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood. He ran straight to the wall-mounted emergency phone, his small hands slamming the bright red panic button.
Derek spun around at the sound of the heavy mechanical click.
"Nash, what are you doing?!" Derek roared, his face twisting into a mask of sudden, vicious panic. He abandoned his mother and lunged toward the kitchen.
"Grandpa, please!" Nash sobbed into the speakerphone, his voice echoing with terrified urgency over the line. "You have to save mommy! They hurt us!"
"Hang up that phone right now, you little brat!" Derek bellowed, charging across the room.
Before Derek could close the distance to the child, Vesper moved with blinding speed. She threw herself onto the floor, her hands shooting out to grab the fabric of Derek’s tailored trousers. She yanked backward with every ounce of her strength.
Derek’s momentum betrayed him. He tripped over her grip, stumbling hard against the kitchen island, sending a stack of plates crashing to the floor.
"Let go of me, Vesper!" Derek snarled, trying to kick his leg free, his handsome face warped with violent rage.
"Don't touch her," Vesper commanded, her voice painful but fiercely controlled as she pulled herself up, positioning her body as a physical barricade between her husband and the phone. "Don't you take one step closer to my son."
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"You are insane!" Derek yelled, his chest heaving under his dress shirt. "You just assaulted my mother! I'll have you arrested for attempted murder!"
"Call them, then," Vesper challenged, her fair skin flushed, her eyes burning with an icy, indomitable fire. "Let the police walk into this dining room. Let them see the food on your son's clothes. Let them hear how your mother dumped boiling dinner onto a four-year-old to force a real estate transfer."
