Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
Daniel scanned the room, his eyes instantly locking onto the crowd gathering around our table.
When he saw me lying on the floor, soaked in fluid, his face underwent a terrifying transformation. Daniel spent every day prosecuting dangerous criminals, cartel members, and corrupt politicians. He was famous for his icy, impenetrable professional composure.
But in that moment, the composure completely shattered, replaced by the primal, terrifying rage of a husband protecting his family.
He crossed the massive ballroom in seconds, practically throwing himself onto the floor beside me.
"What happened?!"
Daniel demanded, his hands gently framing my face, his eyes wide with terror as he saw the pool of fluid.
"Are you bleeding? Is the baby okay?"
"My dad,"
I gasped out, my fingernails digging painfully into his forearm as another contraction hit.
"He kicked the chair. I fell backward. The baby is coming, Daniel. It's too early."
Daniel’s jaw locked with a sickening, audible crack. His eyes turned entirely black. He stood up slowly, rising to his full, imposing height.
He didn't look at Olivia. He didn't look at the crowd. He locked his eyes directly onto my father, who was still standing behind the table, his arms crossed defensively over his chest.
Daniel then looked at my mother, who had finally taken a step back, realizing for the first time that she had lost complete control of the narrative.
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"Did you do this?"
Daniel asked. His voice was not a shout. It was a terrifyingly quiet, lethal whisper that carried enough menace to make the surrounding guests physically back away.
