Chapter 5
The silence in the ballroom was profound and heavy, broken only by the soft, terrified whimpers of Eira hiding behind her father's leg. The guests held their breath, their fair and rosy faces pale with absolute shock. They were witnessing the internal implosion of a powerful Mafia alliance, playing out in real-time under the natural, cinematic lighting of the grand estate.
Ainsley stood with her chin raised high, a defiant, triumphant smirk playing on her lips. She genuinely believed she had backed the veteran Mafia boss into a corner. She believed her family's wealth and influence were indispensable to his syndicate. She was catastrophically wrong.
Galen slowly, deliberately took a step forward. His polished leather shoes made a heavy, rhythmic sound against the marble floor.
"You ask me to choose," Galen murmured. His voice was a low, gravelly hum that vibrated through the air, sending shivers down the spines of everyone listening.
"Yes, Galen. I do," Ainsley stated proudly, crossing her arms over her elegant evening gown.
Galen did not say another word. He moved with explosive, terrifying dominance.
Without a fraction of a second's warning, Galen’s large, powerful hands shot out. He grabbed Ainsley firmly by both of her shoulders. His grip was an inescapable, bone-crushing vice. The sheer, overwhelming masculine strength of the Mafia boss paralyzed her instantly.
"Galen! What are you doing?" Ainsley gasped, her eyes widening in sudden, genuine panic as she felt the sheer, terrifying power of his grip.
Galen did not answer. He forcefully shoved her backward. The physical force of the thrust was apocalyptic. Ainsley was thrown violently off balance, her designer heels skidding uselessly against the polished marble floor.
She flew backward directly toward the ornate, heavy wooden engagement chair placed at the head of the table.
She slammed into the chair with brutal force. The heavy wooden chair slid violently across the marble floor with a loud, deafening screech, scraping harshly against the polished stone. Ainsley collapsed into the seat, her elegant evening gown tangling around her legs, the breath knocked completely from her lungs. She gripped the armrests in pure shock, her diamond jewelry rattling, her mouth hanging open in sheer terror.
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No dialogue was spoken during the horrific display of dominance.
The white American guests and bodyguards remained frozen in absolute, paralyzed silence. The veteran boss had just physically dismantled his fiancée in a matter of seconds, without breaking a sweat. Galen stood perfectly still, his tailored dark suit unwrinkled, his breathing slow and completely controlled. The bright, vivid colors of the room seemed to sharpen, focusing entirely on the undisputed king of the organization asserting his absolute authority.
