Chapter 5
The dust and shattered crystal settled over the ruined section of the ballroom. Michael groaned in agony, lying tangled in the splintered remains of the banquet chairs, his crisp white dress shirt stained with bright red cocktail sauce and spilled wine. Jessica was pinned beneath him, weeping hysterically, her elegant formal outfit completely destroyed by the food and the fall.
Two of Roland’s massive bodyguards, dressed in dark, impeccable suits, stepped forward seamlessly from the crowd. They moved with silent, lethal precision, positioning themselves directly behind the groaning Michael and Jessica. Their hands rested casually inside their jackets, a silent promise that anyone who attempted to help the fallen Hayes family members would be shot dead on the bright, polished marble floor.
The armed men belonging to the Hayes family hesitated. They looked at their boss on the floor, and then looked at Roland Carter. None of them drew their weapons. They knew that pulling a gun on Roland meant starting a war that would leave half the city burning by sunrise.
Roland stepped closer to the wreckage. His face, usually a mask of controlled, corporate sociopathy, was now extremely angry. The muscles in his jaw ticked, and his fair skin was flushed with a terrifying, righteous wrath. He looked down at the man he had allowed to marry his daughter.
"You think you are kings in this city," Roland growled, his deep American accent vibrating through his clenched teeth. The low volume of his voice made it infinitely more terrifying than a shout. "You think because I agreed to a truce, you could treat my blood like stray dogs in your own home."
"Roland... please," Michael coughed, spitting a mixture of blood and cocktail sauce onto his own chin as he tried to push himself up on his elbows. "It was just a dispute. Women's business. You're overreacting."
Roland’s eyes narrowed into dark, unforgiving slits. "You put your hands on my daughter in anger. Your mother threw garbage on my granddaughters."
"We are family now, Roland!" Jessica cried out from beneath the broken chairs, her voice shrill and desperate. "You can't do this to us! The commission won't allow it!"
"The commission does not govern what happens to men who abuse my children," Roland stated, his voice a cold, flat absolute. He leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to Michael's terrified eyes.
"You thought you were starving my girls to teach them a lesson," Roland said, the promise of total destruction dripping from every syllable. "Soon, you won't even have leftovers to eat."
He stood back up to his full, imposing height. He turned his back on the wreckage without another glance, looking toward Emily.
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"Gather the girls, Emily," Roland commanded softly, his demeanor shifting instantly to protective warmth for his family. "We are going home."
Emily scooped Olivia into her arms and grabbed Megan’s hand tightly. She didn't look back at her husband. She walked confidently beside her father, flanked by the bodyguards, marching out of the grand ballroom and leaving the Hayes family empire to choke on their own ruins.
