Chapter 2
Eleanor Vance gripped the wooden banister of the grand staircase so tightly her knuckles turned stark white against her emerald green silk blouse.
Her arrogant, condescending smirk had completely vanished, replaced by a cold wave of aristocratic dread as she looked down at the armed guards blocking every exit.
"Arthur, let us be entirely rational about this unfortunate domestic misunderstanding," Eleanor attempted, her voice losing its previous venomous edge.
"A young couple's private marital dispute does not warrant a federal-grade security sweep inside a private residence."
Arthur slowly turned his head upward, fixing his piercing blue eyes on the woman who had terrorized his daughter for the past two years.
"You called her a peasant in her own home, Eleanor, and allowed your worthless son to strike a pregnant woman," Arthur said coldly.
"In less than sixty seconds, you will discover what happens when you mistake my daughter's silence for weakness."
Logan staggered backward until his spine slammed hard against the lacquered side table, knocking over the small American flag decoration onto the floor.
He stared frantically at his mother for rescue, but Eleanor was entirely paralyzed by the terrifying aura radiating from the billionaire industrialist.
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"Clara, please... talk to him, tell him it was just a moment of anger," Logan begged, lunging forward with desperate, pathetic pleading.
Clara stepped back smoothly, her sapphire blue dress shimmering under the chandelier light as she maintained an impenetrable emotional distance.
