Chapter 3 - The Scramble for Survival as the Truth Comes to Light
Sloane glanced frantically toward Nolan, her eyes wide with a desperate plea for rescue, but Nolan looked entirely paralyzed, staring at the floor as if hoping the marble would swallow him whole.
“I… I genuinely thought she was just one of the hired waitresses,” Sloane stammered, her voice losing all of its previous arrogant edge.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
“Even if she were a member of the waitstaff, does that grant you the right to destroy her property and humiliate her in front of three hundred people?”
“She is helping the waitstaff tonight,” Sloane tried to argue defensively, her voice pitching slightly upward. “So it was an honest misunderstanding.”
“You didn’t misunderstand anything,” Dominic replied, his voice dangerously smooth. “You deliberately, with malice of forethought, tore her dress.”
“It was an accident! I tripped or something—”
Dominic slowly looked down at the narrow strip of silver silk still lying crumpled near the toes of Sloane’s expensive designer shoes.
“Do accidents in your world usually require the coordinated use of both hands and a deliberate upward pull?”
A collective, nervous murmur traveled through the tense crowd. Several guests began backing away from Sloane and Nolan, desperate to distance themselves from the impending disaster.
Sloane swallowed hard, forcing her shoulders back in a pathetic display of lingering pride.
“Well, she shouldn’t have been wearing an expensive evening gown while serving drinks to people! It was completely confusing and misleading.”
Before Dominic could unleash the fury building behind his cold eyes, Clara reached out and gently touched his forearm.
It was a small, subtle gesture, but Dominic stopped instantly, his rigid posture softening the microsecond her fingers brushed his sleeve.
“No public threats, Dom,” Clara said quietly, her voice a soothing anchor in the storm.
“I haven’t threatened anyone yet,” Dominic murmured, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Not yet, but I know that look in your eye.”
Dominic’s expression softened further, a rare, vulnerable crack in his usually impenetrable armor.
“You know me far too well, cara.”
“I know the good man you are trying every single day to become. Don't throw all that hard work away over someone like her.”
Nolan Whitmore cleared his throat loudly, stepping forward with a trembling, overly eager smile that failed to mask his terror.
“Mr. Raines! Mr. Raines, please, I sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart. This is an appalling, catastrophic misunderstanding, and I give you my absolute word that Sloane’s abhorrent conduct does not reflect my personal character, my company, or the Harbor Light Foundation.”
Dominic slowly turned his head to look at Nolan, treating him like a particularly disgusting insect on his shoe.
“Your unhinged girlfriend just publicly assaulted my wife while three hundred of our supposed peers stood around laughing like animals.”
Nolan swallowed a massive lump in his dry throat.
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“I understand completely how terrible this appears from your perspective—sincerest apologies—”
“Appears?” Dominic interrupted, his voice cutting through Nolan’s excuses like a razor.
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