Chapter 6 - The Calm Before the Storm
The day of the dinner party arrived, bringing with it a suffocating Mediterranean heat. The villa was buzzing with caterers, florists, and musicians. Beatriz was in her element, barking orders at the staff, completely unaware that Maria and the others now looked at her not with fear, but with silent, knowing anticipation. They knew a storm was coming; I had ensured they were all given heavy bonuses and secured contracts the day before.
I spent the afternoon with Isabella. Her hands were healing nicely, the blisters turning to dry scabs, but the emotional wounds were deeper. We sat in the shade of the grand oak tree at the edge of the estate, far from the chaos of the party preparations.
“Are you sure you don't want to come down for dinner, Bella?” I asked gently, stroking her hair.
She shook her head vigorously, pulling her knees to her chest. “No. Beatriz said I am not allowed to be seen when important people are here. She says I'm an embarrassment.”
The rage flared again, hot and violent, but I took a deep breath. “Beatriz doesn't make the rules anymore, sweetheart. But if you want to stay in your room and watch movies with Maria tonight, you can. You are safe. I promise you.”
“Why is she having a party, Papa? Are you leaving again?”
“No, I am never leaving you again. The party is just... a magic trick,” I smiled softly at her confusion. “Tonight, I am going to make a monster disappear.”
Isabella looked at me with wide, trusting eyes. For the first time in weeks, a tiny, fragile smile touched her lips. “Like a real magician?”
“Exactly like a real magician.”
As evening fell, the elite of Marbella began to arrive in their Bentleys and Porsches. Politicians, real estate moguls, and socialites filled my home, drinking my champagne and marveling at the sweeping views of the sea. Beatriz played the perfect hostess, gliding through the crowd in a stunning backless crimson gown, the diamonds I bought her sparkling at her throat.
Then, Julian arrived. He was a handsome man in his early thirties, sharp and charismatic, wearing a tailored Italian suit. He walked straight up to me, clapping me on the shoulder with a broad, fake smile.
“David! Congratulations on the Dubai close. Brilliant work, as always.”
“Julian,” I smiled back, shaking his hand warmly. I noticed his grip was slightly sweaty. “Glad you could make it. We have a lot to celebrate tonight. A lot of... transitions.”
Julian’s eyes flicked briefly toward Beatriz, who was watching us from across the room. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. He thought I was referring to the property transfer documents Beatriz was supposed to get me to sign tonight.
“Absolutely, David. Looking forward to the future,” Julian lied smoothly.
“So am I,” I replied.
I watched him walk over to the bar, smoothly slipping a hand onto the small of Beatriz's back as he ordered a drink. They looked so confident, so utterly convinced of their own superiority. I checked my phone. A text from my head of security simply read: All local authorities are in position. Bank traps are armed.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, grabbed a glass of vintage champagne from a passing waiter, and tapped my silver spoon against the crystal flute. The sharp, clear ringing silenced the murmur of the crowd.
May you like
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I announced, projecting my voice across the grand living room. “If I could have your attention, please. It is time for a toast.”
The trap was set. The audience was watching. It was time to pull the lever.
