Chapter 2
The bright, vibrant atmosphere of the living room felt entirely different from the perspective of a four-year-old. For Lila, the towering adults, the loud American accents, and the heavy scents of expensive perfumes were beginning to feel overwhelmingly claustrophobic. She stacked a red wooden block on top of a blue one, but her small hand was trembling slightly. A familiar, terrifying tightness was slowly creeping into her chest. It started as a subtle tickle in her throat, rapidly evolving into a heavy, suffocating pressure.
Lila took a short, gasping breath. The air simply wouldn't fill her lungs.
"Daddy?" Lila whispered, her medium-brown skin paling as panic set in. She looked around the crowded room, but the tall figures of the guests obscured her view of the doorway where Adrian had been standing just moments before.
She stood up on her sneakers, her tiny chest heaving as a high-pitched wheeze escaped her lips. The tightness was escalating faster than usual. She knew exactly what she needed to do. Her father had practiced this with her a hundred times. With trembling fingers, she reached for the small, colorful pouch resting against her casual dress. She unzipped it, her frantic little fingers brushing against the familiar plastic casing of her rescue inhaler.
Before she could pull the life-saving device from its pouch, a shadow fell over her.
Theresa Mercer stepped in front of the little girl, her elegant heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. Her fair, rosy face was twisted into an ugly, mocking sneer. Without a single word of comfort or concern, Theresa aggressively snatched the inhaler right out of Lila’s small hands.
"Give it back!" Lila gasped, her voice barely a squeak as she struggled to draw oxygen into her closing airways.
Theresa raised her arm high into the air, holding the inhaler entirely out of the four-year-old’s reach. The gold bracelets on her wrist jingled a cruel, metallic melody.
"What's the magic word, little girl?" Theresa mocked, her American accent dripping with a toxic, sadistic delight. "You can't just snatch things in this house. You need to learn some manners."
"Please," Lila wheezed, tears of sheer terror spilling down her cheeks. She jumped on her tiptoes, desperately swiping her small hands at the air, trying to reach the medicine that Theresa was holding hostage. "I can't... breathe..."
"Oh, stop being so dramatic," Theresa sneered, rolling her eyes as she looked down at the suffocating child. "You are just like your father. Always demanding attention, always pretending to be the victim. You aren't dying. You're just throwing a tantrum."
"Aunt Theresa... please," Lila choked out, her knees buckling slightly as the lack of oxygen made the bright room spin around her. Her tiny hands clawed at Theresa’s trousers, begging for mercy.
"I said, stop it!" Theresa snapped, taking a step back to keep the inhaler further away. "You need to learn that you don't run things around here. I do."
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Across the sprawling living room, returning from the hallway just a minute earlier than expected, Adrian Mercer stepped through the archway. His sharp, deep-set dark eyes swept the room and locked instantly onto his daughter. He saw the heaving of her small chest. He saw the tears. And he saw his adoptive sister holding the plastic inhaler high above her head with a vicious, mocking smile.
The civilized, professional businessman vanished in a millisecond. A primal, earth-shattering rage took his place.
