Chapter 7 - Collateral at the Gift Table
Victoria Sterling crashed violently into the side of the massive, linen-draped Christmas gift table.
The heavy wooden trestle shuddered under the impact, groaning loudly before tipping backward against the wall.
Dozens of meticulously wrapped luxury presents slid down the incline in an explosive cascade of holiday chaos.
Gold-embossed gift boxes, shimmering crimson cartons, and enormous white silk packages tumbled through the air.
Spools of red velvet ribbons unraveled across the floor, tangling around Victoria’s flailing black high heels.
Delicate glass baubles and silver festive bells shattered against the hard marble, scattering dangerous glitter everywhere.
Victoria hit the floor in an ungraceful, tangled heap amidst the wreckage of the presents she had arranged.
A heavy decorative snowglobe toppled from the upper tier, shattering beside her face and soaking her platinum hair in glittery fluid.
She coughed, scrambling on her hands and knees, but found herself completely trapped beneath piles of scattered cardboard.
The socialites who had fawned over her earlier that evening now backed away in disgusted silence.
Nobody stepped forward to offer a hand; nobody dared to look into Salvatore Delacroix’s smoldering eyes.
Victoria lifted her head, her bold red lipstick smeared across her chin and her icy blue eyes wide with primal dread.
She looked up at Salvatore, who remained planted like a monolith ten feet away, pointing a single accusatory finger at her.
"You will not take another step in my house," Salvatore commanded in a low, gravelly tone that promised absolute death.
The cold authority in his voice made the hair on the back of every guest’s neck stand straight up.
Victoria tried to push a large gold box off her lap, her manicured nails breaking against the thick foil wrapping.
She realized with sickening clarity that her social status, her wealth, and her glamorous future were permanently erased.
She was nothing more than a cornered criminal sitting in the ruins of the family she had tried to tear apart.
Behind Salvatore, Elena continued to weep softly, the sound of her agony cutting straight through her father's soul.
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The billionaire boss slowly lowered his arm, his fury momentarily yielding to the desperate need to comfort his flesh and blood.
He turned his back on the ruined fiancée, leaving her shivering among the fallen gifts on the cold marble floor.
