Chapter 2
The bright, festive colors of the ballroom seemed to warp and distort around the sheer malice radiating from Victoria. The guests nearest to the exchange subtly stepped back, turning their faces away. In the Sterling family, one did not interfere with the matriarch's discipline, no matter how brutal or unwarranted it seemed. Sophia shrank back against the wall, her wide blue eyes welling with fresh tears as she tried to hide the plastic bag behind her back.
"I said, what are you holding?" Victoria demanded, her voice rising just enough to cut through the elegant music playing in the background.
Before Sophia could answer, Victoria’s high heel lashed out with sudden, violent speed. The sharp toe of her designer shoe caught the plastic bag perfectly, violently kicking the discarded food right out of Sophia’s tiny hands. The bag burst open against the wall, scattering stale bread crusts and crushed, cream-filled pastries across the pristine floor.
Sophia let out a small, terrified gasp and instinctively dropped to her knees, her small hands frantically trying to gather the ruined pieces of food.
Victoria wasn't finished. With a snarl of disgust, the matriarch reached down, her ring-clad fingers digging painfully into the thin fabric of Sophia’s torn shirt. She grabbed the little girl by the shoulder and hoisted her upward before violently shoving her backward. Sophia’s small body collided hard with the metal frame of the banquet trash cart, sending a dull, hollow metallic ring echoing through that corner of the room. She slumped to the floor, rubbing her bruised elbow, too terrified to cry out loud.
"Leave it," Victoria snapped, leaning over the little girl, her pearl necklace swaying.
A heavy silence fell over that side of the ballroom. The bodyguards stood like statues, their fair skin flushed under the bright lights, but their eyes remained strictly forward.
"I was just saving it for tomorrow," Sophia whimpered, her chin trembling uncontrollably. "I didn't take it from the tables. It was in the bin."
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Victoria’s face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated contempt. She looked down at her granddaughter, feeling not a shred of pity for the starving child. She leaned in close, ensuring the words would carve themselves permanently into the little girl's mind.
"Your dead father can’t feed beggars anymore," Victoria said coldly, the vicious words hanging in the air like poison. "You eat what I allow you to eat. And tonight, you eat nothing."
