Chapter 3 - the crack of thunder
The knuckles on Augustus Romano’s hands turned pale as his fingers gripped the carved leather armrests of his wheelchair.
Slowly—deliberately—he planted both feet firmly onto the marble floor.
A quiet murmur rippled through the nearest table as people realized what was happening. Augustus, a man who had not stepped out of his wheelchair in front of the family in over seven years, was pushing himself upward.
He stood up.
His spine straightened until he was standing tall and completely upright, towering over Victoria from behind. There was no tremor in his legs. No hesitation in his posture. His dark three-piece suit sat immaculately on his frame, his jaw set like carved granite.
In an instant, the entire banquet hall fell dead silent. Whispers froze in throats. Silverware stopped clinking against porcelain. The orchestra lowered their bows. Over three hundred high-ranking guests, captains, and powerful figures watched in stunned disbelief.
Victoria felt the sudden drop in the room’s atmosphere before she understood why. She began to turn around, confusion clouding her sharp features. "What is—"
Before she could finish the sentence, Augustus took two swift steps forward.
CRACK.
The sound of his open hand striking Victoria’s cheek cracked through the silent hall like a gunshot.
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The sheer force of the slap whipped her head to the side, breaking her balance completely. Victoria let out a sharp gasp as her crimson gown tangled around her heels, sending her stumbling sideways until she crashed hard into an unoccupied banquet chair, clutching her reddening cheek in sheer horror and disbelief.
The diamonds on her wrist rattled as her body trembled. The room remained suffocatingly quiet.
