Chapter 2 - The Arrival of the Wolves
The ballroom was suffocatingly quiet.
No one dared to breathe.
No one dared to pull out their phones to record.
The elite guests of the Whitmore annual gala were paralyzed by the shifting power dynamic.
Evelyn stood in the center of the room, rocking little Leo until his cries softened into tiny, exhausted hiccups.
Her shoulder throbbed with agonizing pain where she had hit the marble floor.
But she didn't show it.
She stared down at Richard, who was now bleeding from a cut on his forehead.
“You're bluffing,” Richard stammered, trying to push himself up from the ruined table.
“That watch... it’s a fake. You’re a nobody!”
Evelyn didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
Because less than two minutes later, the grand wooden doors of the ballroom didn't just open.
They were kicked open.
The heavy oak doors slammed against the walls with a deafening crash.
Six men in tailored black suits poured into the room.
They didn't carry themselves like standard security.
They moved with lethal precision, forming a perimeter around Evelyn and the baby in seconds.
They ignored the gasps of the wealthy guests.
They ignored Margaret’s outraged spluttering.
Then, a figure walked through the doorway.
He was tall, impeccably dressed in a bespoke charcoal suit, with piercing gray eyes that promised absolute destruction.
Alexander Sterling.
Evelyn’s older brother.
The current head of the Sterling empire.
He hadn't seen his sister in four years, not since she ran away to live a "normal" life.
He walked past the terrified guests, his shoes clicking ominously on the marble floor.
He stopped right in front of Evelyn.
His hard eyes softened for a fraction of a second as he looked at her bruised shoulder, and then at the baby in her arms.
“Are you okay, Evie?” his voice was dangerously quiet.
“I am now, Xander,” Evelyn whispered, a tear finally escaping her eye.
Alexander turned his head slowly.
His gaze locked onto Richard, who was now trembling violently on the floor.
“Is this the one?” Alexander asked.
Evelyn nodded.
Alexander walked over to Richard.
Margaret tried to intervene. “Now see here, you can’t just barge into my home—”
One of the security men raised a single finger, and Margaret clamped her mouth shut, terrified.
Alexander crouched down next to Richard.
“You put your hands on my sister,” Alexander said, his voice smooth like velvet but deadly like a razor.
“I... I didn't know,” Richard choked out, tears of cowardice welling in his eyes.
“You didn’t know she was a Sterling,” Alexander corrected him. “Which means you only abuse women you think have no one to protect them.”
Alexander stood up and adjusted his cuffs.
“Burn this family to the ground,” he ordered his men. “Starting tonight.”
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He turned his back on the Whitmores, wrapping a protective arm around his sister.
“Let’s go home, Evie. Your room is exactly as you left it.”
