Chapter 3 - Retaliation and Broken Crystal
Victoria’s chest heaved beneath the structured corset of her wedding gown as she glared at Marcus protecting his daughter.
To be rebuked so savagely before two hundred of New York’s most influential families was an intolerable humiliation for her towering ego.
Rather than backing down, the venom inside her blood boiled over into unthinking physical retaliation.
With a guttural shriek of fury, Victoria lunged forward and swung her open palm with all her weight directly at Marcus’s face.
The slap cracked against his jaw like a whip, snapping his head slightly to the left under the sudden sting of impact.
Maya cried out in terror from behind him, clutching his tuxedo jacket tighter as guests gasped once again.
Marcus barely blinked, his dark eyes darkening into terrifying slits of obsidian stone as his head turned slowly back toward his bride.
Seeing that her blow had failed to break his composure, Victoria’s sanity dissolved into reckless savagery.
Her wild eyes darted sideways and spotted an ornamental floral stand positioned beside the marble columns.
With frantic fingers, she ripped a lightweight detachable metal support rod free from the decorative arrangement of white lilies.
She raised the heavy metal tube high above her head like a club and swung it aggressively toward Marcus’s neck and collarbone.
Marcus did not retreat an inch.
His muscular forearm snapped upward in a textbook defensive parry, blocking the descending metal bar with solid bone and muscle.
The metallic clang of the impact reverberated through the courtyard, sending a painful shockwave back into Victoria’s hands.
Before she could recalibrate for a second strike, Marcus thrust his open palm forcefully against the center of her metal rod.
The explosive counter-push drove Victoria backward across the slick flagstones with irresistible momentum.
Her designer heels lost traction on the polished stone as she windmills her arms in a frantic attempt to remain upright.
She slammed backward directly into the secondary dessert table loaded with tiered crystal cake stands and porcelain plates.
The collision produced a deafening crash as the heavy mahogany table buckled under the unexpected impact.
Dozens of crystal champagne glasses, antique porcelain platters, and delicate petit fours showered onto the terrace in a cascade of sharp shards.
Victoria collapsed into the chaotic pile of broken china and bruised fruit, her immaculate white gown instantly stained with blackberry jam and spun sugar.
Marcus stood his ground without pursuing her, immediately retracting his stance to place both hands firmly on his daughter’s trembling shoulders.
"Look at me, Maya, don't look at her," he commanded softly, keeping his muscular frame positioned between his child and the fallen bride.
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The terrace was now a battlefield of fractured glass, smeared pastry, and severed dignity.
Victoria sat amidst the debris, gasping for air as the horrified gazes of her high-society peers pinned her to the floor like a specimen.
