Chapter 2
Alexander did not speak another word in the alley. The rising fury in his chest eclipsed his shock, crystallizing into a cold, terrifying resolve. He tightened his grip on his daughter, ignoring the grime transferring to his tailored suit, and kicked the heavy service doors wide open.
He carried Sophia directly through the service corridor and straight into the glittering ballroom. The room was bathed in bright, cinematic light, reflecting off crystal chandeliers and champagne flutes.
As Alexander marched through the crowd, the live string quartet abruptly stopped playing. The music died a violent death. Hundreds of Gala guests, all dressed in formal black-tie evening attire, turned and stared. They lowered their crystal glasses, their fair, rosy faces masking shock as the wealthy Alexander Sterling strode through their ranks carrying a filthy, starving child.
At the center of the room, standing beside a towering, multi-tiered cake, was Victoria Sterling. At seventy years old, she was a vision of aristocratic elegance, wearing a sweeping evening gown, a heavy pearl necklace, diamond earrings, and expensive heels.
When she saw Alexander holding the child, Victoria froze.
Victoria advanced with a brittle, panicked smile, attempting to maintain her graceful facade. She reached her manicured hands out toward Sophia.
Sophia let out a choked gasp and recoiled violently into Alexander’s chest, hiding her face. Alexander immediately turned his shoulder away, shielding his daughter, and glared at his mother with a gaze that could shatter glass.
“Put her down, Alexander,” Victoria hissed. Her panic was buried just beneath a thick layer of vicious contempt, her voice sharp, controlling, and desperate to save face. “That child does not belong here. You are making a scene.”
Alexander charged forward. He didn't yell. He didn't argue. He raised his hand and slapped Victoria across the face with devastating force.
The crack echoed through the silent ballroom. Victoria was sent crashing hard to the polished marble floor, her pearls clattering against the tiles. The stunned guests gasped, stepping backward in collective horror.
Alexander stood over her, his fury restrained in a terrifying, absolute way. His eyes blazed as he looked down at the woman who had birthed him.
“Where has the five thousand dollars I send every month gone?” Alexander’s voice boomed with absolute fury, shaking the very walls of the ballroom.
Silence engulfed the room. No one dared to breathe. Hotel staff in black-and-white service uniforms stood paralyzed by the walls.
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Sophia, trembling violently in her father’s arms, slowly raised her dirty hand. She pointed a tiny, shaking finger directly at Victoria, who was currently clutching her cheek on the floor. Her champagne glass had slipped from her hand and shattered. Alexander followed his daughter’s trembling finger.
“Daddy…” Sophia whispered, her voice reduced to a terrified, broken rasp. “Grandma is the one who—”
