Chapter 2: The Recognition
The guests whispered, scandalized by the violence, but the man at the center of the room, Marcus—one of the city’s wealthiest developers—didn't whisper. He stood frozen, his wine glass slipping from his fingers and shattering against the floor.
He didn't look at Diana. He didn't look at the chaos. He looked at the woman on the floor—the police officer with the cut on her face. His skin turned ashen. He had buried his wife, Elizabeth, five years ago. Or so he had been told. The woman on the floor wasn't Elizabeth. But the way she held her chin, the way she looked at the boy… it was his wife.
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"Elizabeth?" he breathed, his voice barely a tremor in the suffocating silence.
Diana’s face went white. She tried to pull the boy toward the exit, but Marcus lunged forward, grabbing her arm with a strength that stopped her in her tracks.
