Chapter 5
The spell of absolute, terrified silence was finally broken by the sound of Eleanor groaning on the floor, clutching her rapidly swelling, rosy cheek. She looked up at Evelyn, her eyes wide with a mixture of genuine fear and incomprehensible shock.
Julian was the first to react. His smug, victorious sneer evaporated entirely, replaced by a frantic, panicked energy. He had expected tears, begging, or a shameful retreat. He had not expected his sister to physically destroy their mother in front of three hundred elite guests.
"Are you insane?!" Julian shrieked, his voice cracking, completely losing his carefully cultivated, suave tuxedoed persona.
He angrily reached for his tuxedo pocket, shoving the smartphone inside, and took a threatening step toward Evelyn. He pointed a shaking finger directly toward the grand, double-door exit of the ballroom. His fair skin was flushed an ugly, blotchy red, his American accent sharp and hysterical.
"Take your brat and leave before I call the police!" Julian yelled, his voice panicked but heavily laced with a desperate, threatening authority. "You are done, Evelyn! You just assaulted an elderly woman! I will have you locked up, and I will have child services take that little street rat back to whatever gutter you found her in!"
Evelyn didn't flinch at the threat. She stood her ground, her sapphire dress acting as a shield for Lily, who was clinging tightly to the back of her mother’s legs, whimpering softly.
"Call them," Evelyn challenged, her voice low, steady, and vibrating with lethal intent. "Call the police, Julian. Let's show them exactly what happened here."
"I will!" Julian barked, reaching back into his pocket for the phone. "I have fifty witnesses who saw you strike her unprovoked!"
"Not unprovoked, sir," a deep, booming voice echoed from the edge of the crowd.
The sea of shocked, formally dressed guests parted instantly.
Stepping into the bright light of the disaster zone was the venue's Security Manager. At forty-five years old, Marcus was a formidable, broad-shouldered man. He wore a crisp, formal venue-security uniform that fit perfectly, a discrete earpiece curled behind his ear. His expression was a mask of pure, uncompromising professionalism.
In his large hands, Marcus held a sleek, high-definition tablet. The screen was glowing brightly.
He walked directly past the whispering relatives, his polished shoes stepping carefully over the broken glass and spilled wine. He stopped just a few feet away from Evelyn and Julian. He cast a brief, sympathetic look toward the frightened six-year-old hiding behind her mother, and then turned his attention squarely to the man in the tuxedo.
Evelyn slowly turned her head. She did not look at the tablet. She looked directly at Julian. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes locked onto his, conveying a promise of absolute destruction.
Julian looked at the Security Manager, then down at the glowing tablet in the man's hands.
May you like
His face suddenly drained of all color. The angry, blotchy flush on his fair skin vanished in an instant, replaced by a sickly, translucent pallor. The blustering, threatening uncle who was ready to call the police suddenly realized that in a modern, multimillion-dollar event space, nothing happens off-camera.
Julian froze. His hand, still reaching for his phone to call the authorities, went completely limp, dropping uselessly to his side. The trap he had so carefully laid had just snapped shut on his own neck.
