City lights stretched out fifty floors below the penthouse glass, sparkling like scattered glass against the black night sky.
Inside the marble dining room, Julian stood over Eleanor with his hands shaking in raw anger.
Julian: My mother!
His open palm cracked hard against Eleanor’s cheek with a sickening slap.
The force jerked her head sideways, the sting blooming hot and red across her face.
Eleanor stood frozen in her white off-shoulder gown, the fabric pulling tight over her chest as her fingers clenched into a white-knuckled fist.
The ten-carat diamond ring on her hand dug sharp and deep into her palm, cold as ice.
Sitting across the glass table in an emerald silk dress, Julian’s mother, Beatrice, sneered through smeared lipstick.
Beatrice: You deserved every bit of that, you penniless stray!
Julian: Apologize to her right now, Eleanor!
Beatrice: She thinks she can disrespect our family name just because she wears a wedding ring!
Eleanor didn’t flinch, and she didn’t cry.
She calmly reached down, lifted her crystal wine glass from the table, and threw the full glass of vintage red wine straight into Beatrice’s face.
Beatrice: Ah! Julian! She threw it on me!
The older woman shrieked, dark red liquid dripping from her chin, staining her expensive green silk gown.
Before Julian could lift another hand, Eleanor lunged forward and locked her fingers around his jaw like a vise.
She leaned in close, staring straight into his widened eyes with an icy glare that froze the room.
Eleanor: Never touch me again.
She shoved him back and turned on her heels, leaving the penthouse without looking back.
Down at the curb, a white luxury sedan waited under the streetlights with the engine purring softly.
Her private chauffeur opened the heavy rear door, bowing his head in quiet respect.
Marcus: Mrs. Scalon, your father has heard everything.
Eleanor slid into the leather seat, staring out into the dark glass with eyes that promised pure ruin.
Eleanor: Get them out... before midnight.