Chapter 8 - The Collapse Of An Empire
Victoria’s legs gave out beneath the weight of thirty-five condemning glares and her husband’s monstrous fury.
She slid down the smooth marble column, her crimson designer dress pooling around her knees like spilled wine.
"Marcus, it was an accident! We were just arguing! She slipped!" Victoria shrieked, her lies becoming laughably pathetic.
"We all just watched you throw her over the glass with both hands!" Marcus roared, closing the gap until he stood directly over her.
The veins in Marcus’s neck throbbed violently, his fists shaking at his sides as he fought every impulse to tear the world apart.
"You pushed my twenty-three-year-old child off a second-floor balcony into twenty feet of water!" Marcus bellowed.
"And then you stood on these stones and looked me in the eye and framed my own brother for her murder!"
Victoria reached out, her manicured fingers clawing desperately at the hem of Marcus’s soaked tuxedo trousers.
"Marcus, I love you! I did it for us! She was taking all your attention, she was turning you against me!" she wept hysterically.
"Do not touch me!" Marcus snarled, violently stepping back so her hand slapped uselessly against the wet stone.
The guests murmured in disgust, several high-society women shaking their heads with undisguised contempt.
"I gave you everything," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper that carried across the courtyard.
"A penthouse on Michigan Avenue, private jets, millions in jewelry, and a seat at the head of Chicago society."
Marcus leaned down, his gray eyes burning into her panicked blue ones with total, absolute disgust.
"And you are nothing but a common, jealous parasite who tried to slaughter my only blood."
Elena watched from Julian’s side, her shivering slowing as a blanket was gently draped around her shoulders by the caterer.
She felt the steady, protective rhythm of Julian’s breathing beside her, an anchor in the midst of the violent storm.
"Dad..." Elena said softly, her voice still hoarse from pool water.
Marcus turned slowly, looking at his daughter with eyes that instantly welled with overwhelming, suffocating tears.
The billionaire’s ruthless facade completely shattered, leaving a broken father confronting his greatest failure.
"Elena..." Marcus choked out, his voice cracking as he took a tentative step toward her.
He stopped, looking down at Julian, who remained standing beside her, soaked, bruised, and silent.
The guilt that hit Marcus was a physical blow, bending his broad shoulders as he realized the atrocity he had almost committed.
"Julian... God, Julian... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Marcus stammered, his hands reaching out in helpless apology.
Julian looked at his older brother, his expression a mixture of profound relief and lingering, painful hurt.
"You should have trusted me, Marcus," Julian said quietly, his voice devoid of anger, which made the words hurt even more.
"I have never lied to you in my entire life, and you almost broke my neck for a monster."
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Marcus bowed his head, unable to meet his younger brother’s gaze as hot tears streamed down his rugged face.
Behind them, the distant wail of police sirens began to echo through the affluent Chicago neighborhood.
