Chapter 5
Alexander effortlessly lifted Sophia into his left arm, holding her securely against his chest. She felt terrifyingly light, her ribs pressing starkly against the thin, filthy fabric of her torn clothes. As he stood up, his dark eyes scanned her condition. He saw the dark circles under her blue eyes, the hollows of her rosy cheeks, and the bruises marring her fair skin. He looked down at the floor, staring at the plastic bag and the pathetic, hardened crusts of bread his daughter had been forced to scavenge like a starving animal.
The silence in the ballroom was deafening. The bright, vibrant colors of the dresses and the floral arrangements suddenly felt grotesque, a mocking contrast to the starved, filthy child clinging to the boss's neck.
Alexander’s jaw clenched so hard the newly healed scar on his cheek stretched white. He turned his lethal gaze back to Victoria. The elderly woman took a subtle step backward, her pearl necklace rattling against her collarbone as her chest heaved with panicked breaths.
"I sent the wires through the Swiss accounts every single week," Alexander said. His voice wasn't a shout. It was a low, vibrating rumble, far more terrifying than any scream. It was the voice of a man who ordered executions before breakfast.
"Alexander, please, you have to understand the situation," Victoria stammered, holding her hands up, her elegant poise completely shattered. "The family thought you were gone. The council was restructuring the assets—"
"I send fifty thousand dollars here every month," Alexander interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, echoing off the high, gilded ceilings. He pointed a single, trembling finger at the discarded bread on the floor. "Fifty thousand dollars a month for her care. And my daughter is eating garbage off the floor?"
The family guests exchanged horrified, panicked glances. The money had been flowing into the estate; everyone knew the matriarch had been spending lavishly on renovations, new vehicles, and political bribes. But nobody dared ask where the funds were originating, assuming it was from the syndicate's reserve.
May you like
"She is a difficult child, Alexander!" Victoria deflected, her voice shrill and desperate as she tried to regain her authority in front of the capos. "She refuses to eat what the chefs prepare! She acts out! I had to discipline her for the sake of the family image!"
Alexander did not blink. The sheer, overwhelming rage radiating from him was palpable. The air in the room felt as though it had turned to lead. He took a single, slow step toward his mother, his polished leather shoes crunching over the stale bread.
