Chapter 4 - The Shattered Mirror
Before anyone could register the shift in the air, Silas stood up.
He didn't struggle. He didn't lean on the pillar or reach for support. He rose smoothly, effortlessly, standing to his full six-foot height with the upright carriage of a military general. The wheelchair rolled back an inch and settled into silence behind him.
The hall went dead silent. Guests lowered their glasses. Marcus snapped his head back around, his eyes widening in total disbelief as he saw his father standing unassisted for the first time in fifteen years.
Silas took a small step forward, casually reaching up with his gloved hand to straighten the lapels of his charcoal suit jacket. His movements were slow, smooth, and terrifyingly precise. He looked down at Celeste, his eyes blue and sharp as ice.
"Silas—" Celeste began, her voice losing its venom, replaced by sudden confusion.
She never finished the sentence.
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Silas brought his right hand around in a terrifyingly swift, open-palmed slap. The impact cracked through the ballroom like a gunshot. The force of the strike spun Celeste around completely, lifting her off her heels and launching her backward into the elaborate banquet table behind her.
The massive mahogany table groaned under the weight. A five-tier glass champagne pyramid shuddered and collapsed, sending hundreds of crystal flutes cascading down in a deafening explosion of breaking glass and golden foam. Celeste crashed heavily into the center of the table, her emerald gown instantly soaked in crimson wine and spilled liquor, her styled hair ruined, and her mouth agape in absolute terror.
