Chapter 2 - The First FractureThe heavy liquid soaked through the delicate fabric instantly.
Gasps echoed off the vaulted ceiling of the cathedral. Society photographers at the back of the church held up their long lenses, their shutters clicking in rapid, frantic bursts.
The deep crimson wine ran down my forehead, tracks of dark red staining my cheek like dried blood, before sinking into the front of my white lace bodice and pooling at my waist.
“Get lost,” Jessica whispered, leaning in so close I could smell her heavy jasmine perfume mixed with the sharp scent of alcohol. “You were useful while Victor was alive. You kept his medicine organized and played the sweet, obedient nurse. But Victor is dead now. You're just a penniless leech sitting in a seat that belongs to me.”
She reached out, grabbed the soaked collar of my dress, and pulled hard, attempting to drag me out of the family pew.
Something deep within me—something that had been buried under five years of quiet tolerance, gentle smiles, and endless compromises—snapped with the crisp finality of dry timber.
I didn't argue. I didn't cry.
My right hand pulled back, tightly curled into a fist, and connected cleanly with Jessica's sharp jawline before I even had time to process the movement.
THWACK.
The sound of bone hitting flesh echoed clearly through the silent cathedral.
Jessica let out a shrill screech as she stumbled backward, her tall heels buckling under her. She crashed hard against the side of Victor’s mahogany casket, sending a massive five-foot arrangement of white lilies tumbling over her before she collapsed onto the cold marble floor in a heap of green silk and scattered petals.
The cathedral erupted into total chaos.
Guests shot to their feet. Women gasped, holding their pearl necklaces; men stepped out into the aisles to get a clearer view.
Dominic’s face turned purple with sudden rage. He lunged toward me, his hands outstretched as if he intended to grab me by the throat.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Elena?!” he roared, his voice echoing off the stained-glass windows. “Have you completely lost your mind?!”
I didn't retreat an inch.
My right hand slipped smoothly into the hidden pocket of my black silk skirt. My fingers brushed against the cool, rectangular metallic edge of the encrypted USB drive.
It was still there.
Three nights ago, while the storm raged outside the private ICU room at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, a dying Victor DeLuca had reached out with a trembling, frail hand and pressed that metal drive into my palm.
“Don't give this to Dominic, Elena,” the old titan had rasped, his eyes bright with a sharp, terrifying clarity even as his heart monitor slowed. “Wait until everyone is together. Wait until the funeral. Put it in the system.”
“What’s on it, Victor?” I had asked softly.
Victor had managed a faint, ironical smile—the same smile that had struck terror into the hearts of Wall Street raiders for forty years.
“The truth, little bird,” he had whispered. “Just the truth.”
Now, four heavy-set security guards in black suits began rushing down the aisle toward me, summoned by Dominic’s frantic frantic hand gestures. On the floor, Jessica was sobbing hysterically, clutching her swelling jaw while red wine and crushed white lily petals stained her green dress.
May you like
“Get her out of here!” Dominic shouted at the guards, pointing a shaking finger at my face. “Security! Drag her out!”
Before the head security guard could reach my shoulder, every overhead light inside the grand cathedral suddenly dimmed into pitch blackness.
