Part 2 A collective gasp ripped through the ballroom.
Part 2
A collective gasp ripped through the ballroom.
On the massive screen, fifty feet wide, Khloe Davenport was vividly displayed. Her back was pressed against the mahogany racks of expensive coats. Her blonde hair was a mess, and her hands were desperately clutching the lapels of a man who was very clearly not Dominic.
It was Liam Russo—Dominic’s cousin, his fiercest rival within the syndicate.
The audio, captured by the hotel’s high-definition surveillance system, echoed through the ballroom’s surround-sound speakers.
“You think I actually want to marry that cold-blooded psycho?” Khloe’s voice sneered, breathless and cruel. “He’s a monster, Liam. I’m only doing this until my father gets access to the Russo offshore accounts. Once the transfer clears next month, we turn the evidence over to the feds. Dominic goes to prison for life, and you take over the family. Just like we planned.”
“And what about the wedding night, my sweet Khloe?” Liam’s voice purred as he kissed her neck.
“I’ll fake a migraine,” she laughed sharply. “Just shut up and kiss me before I have to go back out there and pretend I don’t despise him.”
In the ballroom, five hundred people stopped breathing. The silence was absolute—a heavy, suffocating vacuum.
Beatrice froze in horror, her hand flying to her mouth. She scrambled to hit the kill switch on the console, but the technician, paralyzed by fear, had locked the screen in a panic. It took five agonizing seconds of explicit, damning audio before Beatrice shoved him aside and yanked the power cord directly from the wall.
The screen went violently black.
The silence that followed was louder than an explosion. Every single eye in the room slowly, terrifyingly shifted to Dominic Russo.
He hadn’t moved a muscle. His face was carved from granite, devoid of any shock, anger, or humiliation. But his dark eyes had turned lethal, radiating a cold, predatory violence that made the air temperature in the room seem to drop ten degrees.
The glass of scotch in his hand suddenly shattered. Crystal cracked under the immense pressure of his grip. Amber liquid and blood dripped onto the marble floor.
“Well,” Dominic said softly, his voice carrying through the dead-silent room like a funeral bell. “It appears the bride is delayed.”
The heavy oak doors of the ballroom burst open. Unaware of the execution she had just walked into, Khloe Davenport strode in, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen. She wore a bright manufactured smile, waving to the crowd. Liam trailed a few steps behind her, looking smug.
“Sorry I’m late, darlings,” Khloe announced, strutting toward the center of the room. “Dress malfunction.”
She stopped. The crowd was staring at her with a mixture of terror, pity, and morbid fascination. No one clapped. No one cheered.
Khloe’s smile faltered as she looked at Dominic. She saw the bleeding hand. She saw the black projector screen. And then she looked at Senator Davenport, whose face had drained of all color.
“What’s going on?” Khloe stammered.
Lorenzo stepped out from the shadows, flanked by four heavily armed Russo guards. They seamlessly surrounded Liam, cutting off his escape. Liam’s smug expression vanished, replaced by stark animal terror as a gun barrel was discreetly pressed into his spine.
Dominic slowly pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his bleeding hand. He walked toward Khloe with the deliberate, unhurried pace of an apex predator.
“The coat-room surveillance,” Dominic stated flatly. “It seems someone hacked the feed and routed it to the projector. A fascinating watch. Highly educational.”
Khloe’s eyes widened in sheer panic. “No. No, Dominic. Whatever they showed you, it’s a deepfake. It’s a lie. I would never—”
“Save it,” Dominic interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it sliced through the room. “Your father’s political career is dead as of tomorrow morning. Liam is dead as of tonight.” He didn’t even look at his cousin as the guards began to march a weeping Liam out the side doors. “And you, Khloe, are entirely useless to me.”
