Chapter 6
Claudia’s composure shattered completely. The aristocratic veneer she wore so proudly dissolved into chaotic panic. She looked at Mark, bleeding and groaning among the shattered crystal and splintered wood, and then her manic gaze locked onto the source of the altercation: the cheap wooden airplane sitting on the armrest next to Noah.
In her twisted, panicked logic, the toy was the catalyst of her ruin. If she could just destroy it, remove it from the room, somehow this nightmare would end.
"You little rat!" Claudia shrieked, her voice echoing wildly off the stone walls.
She lunged forward, her expensive high heels slipping dangerously on the wine-slicked floor. She bypassed her bleeding husband entirely, throwing herself toward the velvet armchair where Noah sat shivering. Her perfectly manicured hands, glittering with heavy diamond rings, clawed desperately for the small wooden airplane.
Noah screamed, throwing his hands over his head and burying his face into the leather upholstery, expecting the familiar sting of her rings against his skin.
He never felt it.
Before Claudia’s fingers could even brush the frayed red ribbon of the toy, Richard stepped into her path. He moved like a ghost, intercepting her frantic momentum with chilling precision. He tore the wooden airplane from her grasping hand, securing it safely behind his back.
Claudia gasped, her momentum halted abruptly as she collided with Richard's chest. She looked up, her blue eyes wide with sudden, paralyzing terror, realizing exactly who she had just charged at.
Richard didn't blink. He didn't shout. He simply raised his massive, calloused right hand and delivered one thunderous, open-handed slap across her face.
The sheer concussive force of the blow was staggering. It wasn't a warning; it was punishment. The slap cracked through the room, a sound so violent it made the seasoned hitmen in the room flinch.
Claudia’s head whipped to the side violently. The heavy diamond earring tore from her earlobe, skittering across the floor. She spun backward, completely out of control, her arms windmilling as she flew toward the massive gift-wrapping table.
She slammed into the edge of the heavy oak table hip-first. The wood groaned under the impact, and the table tipped violently upward. Stacks of massive, beautifully wrapped birthday boxes cascaded into the air. Spools of metallic paper unraveled like brilliant, chaotic streamers across the room. Glittering velvet bows and ribbons exploded into the air, raining down over the carnage.
With a deafening crash, the heavy table flipped completely over, collapsing onto the floor and taking Claudia with it. She landed hard on the hardwood, gasping for breath, half-buried under a mountain of crushed luxury wrapping paper and smashed gift boxes.
The entire entrance hall was now a war zone. To the left, Mark bled among shattered crystal and broken sleds. To the right, Claudia sobbed uncontrollably beneath a pile of ruined gifts.
Between them stood Richard Bellacorte, the undisputed king of this violent world. He slowly lowered his hand, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled rhythms. He carefully took the wooden airplane from behind his back, inspected it to ensure it wasn't damaged, and gently placed it back onto Noah’s lap.
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He gave the child a reassuring pat on the shoulder, a gesture so tender it seemed utterly impossible coming from the man who had just destroyed two people in a matter of seconds.
Only then did Richard slowly turn his head, his cold, deadly eyes shifting back and forth between his son and his daughter-in-law.
