Chapter 4
The chaos in the donor lounge escalated into sheer pandemonium. Guests scattered backward in terrified awe, pressing themselves against the thick glass of the aquarium walls, their reflections caught between the violence of the mafia and the silent gliding of the sharks in the tanks behind them.
"Is he dead?" a woman in the crowd gasped, clutching her diamond necklace as she stared at Preston's motionless body on the floor.
"Stay back! Everyone stay back!" one of the museum curators shouted, though his voice trembled uncontrollably as he tried to manage the rising panic among Boston's elite.
But the nightmare was far from over. Seeing her brother incapacitated on the floor and the grand deception unraveling before her very eyes, Beatrice lost whatever fragile grip she had left on her composure. The perfectly curated facade of the society matriarch crumbled entirely, revealing the bitter, spiteful woman underneath who had always resented Dominic's power.
"You savage!" Beatrice screamed at Dominic, her fair face flushed bright red with frantic malice. "You're destroying this family over a child who doesn't even belong here! You are ruining everything we have built for a bastard!"
Before Dominic could turn back toward his granddaughter, Beatrice lunged forward with surprising speed. She grabbed Maya’s small arm in a tight, bruising grip and tried to violently drag the terrified little girl toward the service exit, desperate to remove the catalyst of their downfall.
"Come here, you little rat!" Beatrice hissed, digging her expensive rings into the child's soft skin. "I'll make sure you never speak another word against this family! You're going back to the gutter where you belong!"
"Let go of me! It hurts!" Maya screamed, bursting into fresh tears as she tried to pull away with all her tiny might. "Grandpa, help!"
Dominic’s eyes turned pitch black. The sophisticated, elegant mafia boss vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, merciless patriarch protecting his bloodline. He didn't shout, nor did he hesitate. In two rapid, predatory strides, Dominic closed the distance between them.
"Take your hands off my blood," Dominic commanded in a low, terrifying growl that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards.
With a motion of terrifying strength, Dominic tore Beatrice’s hand away from Maya’s arm. Without pausing for even a fraction of a second, he delivered one thunderous, open-handed slap squarely across Beatrice’s face.
The resounding crack echoed off the aquarium glass like a gunshot. The impact lifted Beatrice off her feet, sending her spinning backward into a lightweight coral-display sculpture. Fragile foam coral sections shattered instantly, scattering harmlessly across the plush carpet in a colorful explosion of artificial pinks and oranges. A folded exhibit screen behind her collapsed under her weight with a loud clatter of wood and canvas, and Beatrice dropped hard to the floor, collapsing beside a padded bench in a dazed, whimpering heap.
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"Lock the doors," Dominic ordered, his voice echoing with absolute authority over the silent crowd.
Instantly, a dozen heavily armed bodyguards flooded the donor lounge from every corridor. Moving with military precision, they silently blocked every exit, sealing the room like a tomb. Not a single soul dared to breathe, let alone move. They all knew the gala was now a tribunal.
