Chapter 2 - The Glass Shatters
The crystal didn’t just break; it seemed to detonate under the sudden, suffocating silence of the ballroom.
Valentina Romano staggered backward, her thousand-dollar Paris-tailored gown whispering against the marble as her knees buckled. The dazzling, arrogant light in her eyes vanished, replaced instantly by a look of sheer, choking terror. She clawed at her throat with both hands, her manicured nails tearing frantically at the expensive lace encircling her neck.
"Aleandro..." she gasped, her voice turning into a wet, desperate rattle. "My... my chest..."
The three hundred elite guests erupted into chaos. Politicians leaped backward from their chairs; judges shoved past weeping socialites; underworld bosses instinctively reached inside their tailored jackets for concealed weapons, their eyes darting toward the exits. Within seconds, the glittering engagement celebration had transformed into a cage of panicked wolves.
Aleandro Moretti didn't move an inch.
While the entire room stampeded away from the dying bride-to-be, Aleandro stood completely still, his dark eyes fixed on Valentina as she collapsed onto the floor. He watched the white foam bubble at the corner of her lips, her body convulsing once, twice, before going horrifyingly limp.
It wasn't a heart attack. It wasn't natural causes. It was potassium cyanide—fast-acting, untraceable unless you knew the exact compound, and lethal within seconds of ingestion.
"Guards!" Aleandro’s voice didn't roar; it cut through the screaming crowd like a razor-sharp blade of ice. Every single movement in the room stopped instantly. "Seal every exit. No one leaves this estate. If a single fly crosses the gate, I want its wings clipped before it hits the ground."
Heavy boots pounded against the marble as a dozen armed security enforcers flooded the room, locking the massive oak and iron doors from the inside.
Amidst the screaming and the scrambling, Sophia pulled Emma fiercely into her arms, burying the little girl’s face against her shoulder so she couldn't see the body on the floor. Sophia’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She knew this world. She knew what happened when someone powerful died in a Moretti mansion.
Run, her instincts screamed. If you don’t run now, you’ll never leave.
Sophia turned sharply toward the service exit, her worn shoes sliding against the polished floor as she scooped up Emma’s discarded sneakers and stuffed rabbit. She slipped into the shadows of the hallway, praying the chaos of the dying fiancée would swallow her escape.
She made it exactly three steps into the dimly lit corridor before a massive, blocking shadow detached itself from the velvet-paneled wall.
A large, calloused hand gripped her wrist. It wasn't a violent grip, but it was inescapable—the grip of a man who owned the city beneath his boots.
"Where do you think you’re going, Sophia?"
May you like
Aleandro’s voice was dangerously quiet, hovering right beside her ear.
Sophia froze. Slowly, she turned her head, looking up into the cold, midnight-dark eyes of the billionaire mafia don she had spent two years hiding from.
