Chapter 10 - The Broken Champagne Bottle
My father began to smell the cold air of danger. The smug arrogance of a patriarchal dictator was slowly being replaced by the survival instincts of a cornered beast.
He backed away a few steps, grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne from the nearest table. His hand gripped the neck of the bottle, raising it high like a weapon.
"Open these doors right now!" Frank growled, his bloodshot eyes darting from the security guards to Daniel's cold face.
Daniel didn't flinch. He stepped forward, placing himself directly between me and the madman. His tall stature formed a solid wall, shielding me from any further harm.
"Put it down," Daniel said, his voice not loud but carrying the weight of a mountain.
"You think money makes you a man?" My father bared his teeth like a wild dog. "I made her! I have the right to break her if I want to! Get out of my way, or I'll show you..."
Oooooooo... Waaaaa... Waaaaa...
A siren wailed, cutting through the quiet night outside the hotel. It wasn't the sound of an ambulance. It was the sharp, dinned, cold sound of police cruisers.
My mother's face, Patricia, turned pale instantly. The heavy makeup could no longer hide her bloodless skin. Her hands clutched her expensive purse, shaking uncontrollably.
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My father spun his head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows of the ballroom. The flashing red and blue lights swept over the pristine white roses, painting the luxurious space with the colors of violence, like a storm arriving in heaven.
He tried to force a threatening smile, but his facial muscles betrayed him. It came out crooked, pathetic, and filled with sheer terror.
