Chapter 2 - Seventy Million Pieces
The room seemed to freeze, all air evacuated by the icy weight of Dominic Morelli’s words.
Victoria Vale’s smile stiffened into an ugly, painted mask. "Dominic, don't be absurd. You're making a scene over a nurse. Look at her—she doesn't belong in this room, let alone under your protection!"
Dominic didn't argue. He didn't raise his voice.
Instead, he gripped the heavy cream parchment of the seventy-million-dollar contract with both hands.
Thick. Heavy. Irrevocable.
With a single, sharp motion, he ripped it straight down the middle.
The sound tore through the quiet ballroom like breaking bone.
Victoria gasped, clutching her diamond necklace. "Dominic!"
He folded the split pages together, gripped them again, and ripped them across, shredding seventy million dollars in corporate development, shipping rights, and real estate alliances into four pieces. Then he casually opened his fingers, letting the paper flutter down to the polished marble floor at Victoria’s designer heels.
"The alliance is over," Dominic said, his voice smooth, dark, and terrifyingly absolute.
"You can't do this!" Richard Vale, Victoria’s father, practically collided with his own security detail as he rushed forward from the head table. His face was purple with outrage. "That contract took fourteen months of negotiation! The East Harbor development alone—"
"The East Harbor development was a gift to keep your family solvent, Richard," Dominic interrupted, his dark eyes shifting to the older man. "A gift contingent on your daughter having enough grace to carry my name. She lacks it."
"Over a joke?!" Victoria screeched, her carefully cultivated composure completely shattering in front of two hundred of New York’s elite. "You're throwing away our future over a fat girl in a cheap red dress?!"
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
Dominic took one step toward Victoria. Just one. But the sudden, lethal stillness in his posture made Victoria instantly step backward, her high heel catching on her silk gown.
"Elena Brooks came into this room to care for your grandmother," Dominic said quietly. "She wore a dress she paid for with honest work. She carried herself with more dignity in five minutes of your cruelty than you have shown in your entire superficial life. If you speak about her body, her clothes, or her presence in this room again, I will not just destroy your contract, Richard. I will buy your family’s debt by sunrise and foreclose on every estate you own."
Richard Vale turned white, grabbing his daughter’s arm to keep her quiet. "Dominic... please. Let's step into the private lounge. We can discuss this—"
"We are finished," Dominic said.
He turned his back on the Vales, completely dismissing them as if they no longer existed. He looked at Elena, who was standing frozen beneath his wool tuxedo jacket, her hazel eyes wide with shock, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
"Mrs. Vale needs to go home," Dominic said to her softly, his entire demeanor softening so drastically it sent a chill down her spine. "Her heart rate is elevated. The noise in this room isn't good for her."
Elena looked toward the head table. Margaret Vale was sitting in her wheelchair, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips, nodding gently at Elena.
"Yes," Elena whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I need to get her portable oxygen tank from the coat room."
"My men will get it," Dominic said. He offered her his arm—a thick, solid branch of bone and muscle wrapped in black silk. "Let's go, Elena."
May you like
She stared at his arm. She looked at the shredded papers on the floor, then at the shocked faces of two hundred guests staring at her as if she were a ghost.
Slowly, hesitatingly, Elena placed her gloved hand over his forearm.
