Chapter 6
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The crowd froze.
The words hung in the air, paralyzing the hundreds of elite guests. A collective gasp rippled through the room as the socialites and billionaires tried to process the impossible information. Alexander Sterling, the most powerful and ruthless man in the city, had just claimed the bleeding woman in the cheap white apron as his wife.
Cassandra Vance stood completely still, her brain struggling to comprehend the situation. She looked at Alexander, then at the woman she had just slapped. Her arrogant mind simply refused to accept the reality unfolding before her.
The socialite laughed. It was a high, nervous, condescending sound that echoed terribly in the quiet room.
"Alexander, darling, you must be confused," Cassandra giggled, waving her hand dismissively toward Elena. "She's not even a waitress! She’s just some clumsy, incompetent temp who ruined my dress! You can't possibly mean—"
Seconds later, the sound of another slap rang through the ballroom.
It was deafening. It cracked through the air with a brutal, unforgiving finality.
But this time, the socialite was the one holding her face in shock.
Alexander had not raised his hand. Instead, upon a subtle, almost invisible nod from Alexander, the lead bodyguard—a towering woman with a face carved from stone—had stepped forward and delivered a devastating backhand across Cassandra's cheek. The force of the blow sent Cassandra spinning to the floor, her expensive emerald gown tangling around her legs as she collapsed in a heap of glittering fabric and utter humiliation.
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Cassandra gasped, touching her cheek, her eyes wide with a terror she had never experienced in her privileged life. She looked up at Alexander, trembling violently.
"She is Elena Sterling," Alexander said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that carried across the breathless crowd. "She owns this building. She owns the ground you are currently bleeding on. And you just signed the death warrant of your entire existence."
