Celeste depraved enough to strike a four-year-old child and grind her eyeglasses to dust beneath her heel

Rocco walked slowly across the carpet, his polished leather shoes crunching softly over a scattered, brightly colored magnetic tile. He stopped near the spot where Mia had originally been assaulted. He looked down at the carpet.

Rocco picks up the crushed pair of prescription eyeglasses.

He held the twisted metal and shattered glass in his large, powerful hand. He ran his thumb over the broken frame, feeling the jagged edges. The physical destruction of the lenses was a metaphor for the profound betrayal that had occurred under his own roof. They had tried to blind his bloodline to hide their sins.

He slowly turned his imposing frame, his cold, intimidating eyes sweeping over the carnage. To his left, Adrian was groaning, trying to push himself up from the foam planets. To his right, Celeste was weeping hysterically, clutching her bruised face near the magnetic wall.

Rocco walked to the exact center of the room, positioning himself perfectly between them. The bright, cinematic lighting illuminated him like a dark judge holding court.

"Adrian. Celeste," Rocco said. His American accent was a quiet, lethal rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

Both of the traitors flinched at the sound of their names. Celeste scrambled to her knees, her elegant formal gown ruined and wrinkled. Adrian managed to sit up, leaning heavily against a metal stanchion, blood dripping from his chin onto his tailored shirt.

Rocco held up the crushed eyeglasses, letting the bright light catch the broken lenses.

"You broke these to keep her in the dark," Rocco stated softly, his volume remaining terrifyingly low. The controlled pauses in his speech emphasized the absolute danger of the moment. "You locked her door. You assumed a four-year-old child would be too frightened, or too confused, to understand what she was seeing."

He dropped the crushed glasses onto the floor.

"But she wasn't confused," Rocco continued, taking a slow step toward Adrian. "She saw you. After midnight. Whispering in the hallways of my home."

"Rocco, please, we were having an affair," Adrian gasped out, his voice thick with blood and desperation. He spat a tooth onto the carpet. "It was a moment of weakness! I was drunk! We were stupid! We didn't want you to find out and break the engagement!"

"Yes! It was just an affair!" Celeste shrieked, grasping at the narrative like a drowning woman holding a life preserver. "I was lonely, Rocco! You work so many hours! Adrian was just a mistake!"

Rocco stopped walking. He looked from his cousin to his fiancée. A dark, terrifyingly cold smile touched the corners of his lips.

"An affair," Rocco whispered.

He slowly shook his head, his deeply masculine face setting into a mask of pure, unyielding stone.

"If it was merely an affair," Rocco said, his voice dropping an octave, "you would have met at a hotel. You would have met at Adrian's condo. You would not risk meeting in my private estate, sneaking past my interior security, to whisper in the hallway outside my daughter's bedroom."

Rocco turns toward Celeste and Adrian. His posture radiated an apocalyptic threat.

"My daughter's bedroom," Rocco emphasized, "is directly adjacent to my private study. The study that holds the master safe."