Chapter 3 - THE SLAP THAT ROCKED THE DYNASTY: WHEN PATERNAL RAGE OVERTAKES JUDGMENT
Victoria’s eyes narrowed into slits as she looked down at Sophia’s bare, filthy foot. Her lips curled in absolute disgust, refusing to see a terrified little girl, seeing only an embarrassing disruption to her meticulously curated evening.
“Julian,” Victoria hissed, stepping closer, her voice dropping into a venomous register meant only for my ears. “You absolute fool. Look at what you’ve brought into my reception. Take this wretched creature and get out before you ruin our family name completely.”
That single word—creature—shattered the last remaining barrier of my restraint.
My rage overtook my judgment. The years of emotional manipulation, the endless excuses, the gaslighting, the mysterious illnesses, and now this—seeing my flesh and blood treated like stray trash while surrounded by mountains of wealth. My palm struck my mother across the face with a force that echoed off the marble pillars, sending her staggering backward and crashing violently onto the ballroom floor, her emerald gown pooling around her like spilled poison.
Gasps erupted into full-blown shrieks. Women clutched their pearls; men rushed forward, unsure whether to help the matriarch or keep their distance from me.
Security guards, clad in tight black suits with earpieces glowing, immediately broke through the crowd, rushing toward us with heavy, purposeful strides. Three massive men converged on my position, their hands reaching out to grab my shoulders, ready to drag me out into the street.
“Get your hands off me,” I growled, my voice vibrating with a lethal intensity that made the lead guard hesitate just a fraction of an inch. I didn't flinch, nor did I lower Sophia. I kept my eyes locked on the floor where my mother was being helped up by trembling aides, her cheek already swelling into a bright crimson mark.
“Where has the five thousand dollars I send every month gone?” I shouted over the panicked murmur of the crowd, the question cutting straight through the glossy veneer of the Sterling empire.
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A heavy silence filled the room, thicker and more suffocating than before. Everyone knew about the trust funds, the generous allowances, the dedicated care funds I wired overseas and locally every single month to support Elena and Sophia while I traveled for crucial international expansions.
Victoria pushed her assistants away, her face twisted in pure, unadulterated hatred, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she regained her footing.
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