Chapter 5
The collective gasp from the gala guests was audible. The tension in the room ratcheted up to an unbearable degree. Alexander Sterling was known for his icy, calculating demeanor in boardrooms, a man of profound restraint and terrifying intellect. He was not a man prone to emotional outbursts. But as he looked at the woman who gave him life, the woman he had trusted with his most precious treasure, the dam holding back his sanity finally shattered.
Victoria took a step forward, her face flushing with indignant rage. "How dare you speak to me that way in front of our peers," she hissed venomously. "Give me that wretched thing right now and—"
Alexander didn't wait for her to finish. He shifted Sophia entirely to his left arm, securing her against his hip. With blinding speed, he charged forward. His right arm swung in a wide, devastating arc. The sound of his open palm connecting with Victoria’s cheek echoed through the massive ballroom like a thunderclap.
The sheer force of the slap sent the seventy-year-old matriarch spinning. Her elegant evening gown flared as she lost her balance, her high heels twisting beneath her. Victoria crashed heavily to the polished marble floor, her heavy pearl necklace snapping upon impact. Hundreds of pearls scattered across the room, bouncing and clicking against the stone in the horrifying silence that followed.
Several guests screamed. A waiter dropped another tray. Alexander stood over his fallen mother, his chest heaving, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. His fury was restrained in a terrifying way—a beast holding back from tearing its prey to shreds.
"Alexander!" a man from the crowd yelled, but a single, lethal glare from Alexander silenced him instantly.
Alexander looked back down at the woman gasping on the floor, holding her rapidly swelling face.
"Where has the five thousand dollars I send every month gone?" Alexander's voice boomed, bouncing off the crystal chandeliers. It wasn't a question; it was an executioner's bell. "Five thousand dollars, Victoria! Every single month for her care, her food, her tutors!" He pointed a shaking finger at the cowering child in his arms. "And I find my daughter eating moldy garbage in a freezing alleyway!"
Victoria stared up at him, her lip bleeding, her perfectly coiffed hair ruined. She looked around at the faces of her wealthy friends—faces that were now contorted in disgust, horror, and judgment. Her social empire was crumbling into dust before her very eyes.
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"You... you don't understand," Victoria stammered, spitting blood onto the pristine white marble. "She is wicked, Alexander. She is entirely unmanageable!"
"She is six years old!" Alexander roared, the raw agony in his voice breaking the hearts of half the room.
