Chapter 5
The silence was finally broken by a furious, guttural roar from the edge of the grass.
"You insane bitch!" Richard screamed, his face turning an apoplectic, dark crimson. "You attacked my son! You attacked the heir to this family!"
"He attacked me first, Richard," Claire said, not even turning around. "And he is no heir. He is a parasite."
"I'll kill you!" Richard bellowed.
Before Claire could turn fully, Richard lunged. He grabbed Claire violently from behind, his thick hands clamping down on her shoulders. With a surge of aggressive, old-man strength, he violently shoved her forward against the picnic table.
Claire’s heels skidded across the patio stones. She hit the edge of the heavy wooden table, the impact jarring her ribs, but she refused to fall. The natural, bright light caught the flash of her earrings as her survival instincts instantly took over.
She didn't try to pull away; instead, she used his forward momentum. Claire spun free of his grip, dropping her shoulder and twisting out of his hold with blinding speed.
As she completed the spin, she raised her hand and delivered one thunderous, open-handed slap across Richard’s face. The slap echoed like a gunshot, snapping the 67-year-old man’s head to the side and leaving a bright red handprint on his fair, rosy cheek.
Before Richard could recover from the stunning blow, Claire planted her back foot. She drove a hard, perfectly executed front kick directly into the center of his torso.
The kick lifted Richard completely off his loafers. He rocketed backward, his arms windmilling in a desperate attempt to catch his balance. He flew straight into the freestanding lawn-game rack.
The heavy wooden cornhole boards toppled sideways, crashing into the grass with a heavy thud. Brightly colored plastic game pieces scattered wildly across the vivid green lawn. Folded lawn chairs and croquet mallets crashed down around him in a chaotic symphony of destruction. Richard collapsed beneath the broken wooden display, gasping for air, clutching his ribs in absolute agony.
The guests backed away in pure terror, giving Claire a wide berth.
Amidst the wreckage of the barbecue station, Kevin groaned, shifting his weight. As he rolled onto his side, his leather wallet slipped from his pocket and spilled open on the stone patio.
May you like
A distinctive, heavy matte-black card slipped from the leather folds. It slid smoothly across the stone patio, coming to a rest just inches from Claire’s designer heels.
It was the Morgan-family black expense card. The card linked to the primary corporate offshore account. An account that only the true head of the family was supposed to possess.
