Chapter 2
The sudden silence in the grand reception hall was suffocating. The bright, cinematic light seemed to freeze the guests in place. The shattered crystal at Lily’s feet glittered like ice, but no one moved to clean it. The capos, bodyguards, and wealthy family guests all held their breath, their eyes darting between the three-year-old girl and the beautiful woman sitting at the piano.
Victoria’s fair skin flushed a violent, angry red. The graceful, loving facade she had spent months cultivating evaporated in a single heartbeat. She pushed herself off the piano bench, the fabric of her elegant gown swishing aggressively as she closed the distance between herself and the child.
"Victoria," Dante said, his voice a low, warning rumble that should have stopped her in her tracks.
But Victoria was blinded by the sudden, humiliating disruption to her perfect moment. She reached out and grabbed Lily’s fragile arm with a vicious, unyielding grip, her diamond bracelet scratching against the child's soft cardigan. With a harsh jerk, she pulled the three-year-old forcefully away from the piano and the shattered glass.
"Stop it," Victoria hissed coldly, her American accent dripping with absolute venom. "Stop dragging a dead woman into my engagement."
Lily whimpered, tears instantly welling in her eyes as the older woman’s fingernails dug into her skin. "It hurts!"
Dante moved with a terrifying, explosive speed that completely defied his age and the elegant restraint of his three-piece suit. He crossed the marble floor in three massive strides, the polished leather of his shoes silent but deadly.
"Let her go," Dante growled.
Before Victoria could even register his proximity, Dante’s large, deeply masculine hand clamped down over hers. With a brutal, uncompromising force, he immediately tore Victoria’s hand away from his daughter. He didn't just push her; he forcefully broke her grip, placing his towering frame entirely between his terrified child and his fiancée.
"Dante, she is ruining the reception!" Victoria snapped, rubbing her wrist, her chest heaving indignantly. "She does this constantly! I am trying to build a future with you, and she refuses to let the past die!"
"You will never speak to my daughter in that tone again," Dante replied, his voice deadly calm. He spoke slowly, with controlled pauses, keeping his volume low even as he threatened her. Every sentence sounded measured, cold, and immensely dangerous. "And you will never lay a hand on her. Ever."
"I am going to be your wife!" Victoria argued, her rosy complexion mottled with defensive rage. "I demand respect in this house!"
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"You demand nothing," Dante whispered, his cold, intimidating eyes piercing right through her. He knelt down gracefully, picking up Lily and resting her safely against his broad shoulder. "You play a song to win my favor, and then you attack my blood when she recognizes it."
The tension in the room ratcheted to a breaking point, but the true devastation was yet to come.
