Chapter 3
The cinematic, flawless light of the estate seemed to fracture as Adrian Mercer broke into a dead sprint. The heavy, polished leather of his shoes slammed against the hardwood floor with terrifying, explosive force. He was a broad-shouldered, athletic force of nature, and the sheer velocity of his charge sent nearby guests scrambling frantically out of his path. Crystal glasses shattered as people collided with tables in their desperation to avoid him.
Theresa barely had time to register the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere. She turned her head, her fair, rosy face losing its mocking smirk as she saw her adoptive brother bearing down on her like a freight train.
"Adrian, I was just—" Theresa started, her voice cracking in sudden panic.
She never finished the sentence.
"Give my daughter her inhaler!" Adrian roared. His voice was a thundering, apocalyptic boom that shook the very walls of the estate. His strikingly masculine face was contorted with an absolute, protective fury that stripped away any illusion of civility.
He closed the final distance in a single, massive stride. He didn't ask a second time. Adrian’s powerful hand shot upward, his fingers clamping like an industrial steel vise around Theresa’s wrist. With a brutal, uncompromising twist, he violently snatched the plastic inhaler from her manicured grip.
"You're hurting me!" Theresa shrieked, stumbling backward as he released her wrist.
Adrian did not hesitate. Driven by the terrifying sight of his daughter suffocating, the dam of his restraint completely broke. He drew his right arm back and, with a devastating, kinetic surge of power, forcefully slapped Theresa directly across the face.
The sound of the impact cracked like a gunshot through the suddenly silent living room.
The sheer force of the blow lifted the forty-two-year-old woman completely off her elegant heels. Theresa spun wildly, her body twisting in the air before she crashed heavily onto the expensive Persian rug. Her gold earrings flew across the floor, and her fair skin instantly bloomed with a dark, angry red handprint.
Adrian didn't even watch her fall. The moment the inhaler was secured, he dropped to his knees on the hardwood floor, completely ignoring the dust on his fitted trousers. He slid across the ground and scooped Lila’s collapsing body into his arms.
"I've got you, baby, Daddy's got you," Adrian chanted in a frantic, urgent whisper.
He brought the inhaler to her pale lips, pressing the button to release the vital medication into her struggling lungs. "Breathe, Lila. Take a deep breath for me. Right now. Come on, sweetheart."
Lila gasped, her small chest pulling in the medicine with a desperate, ragged wheeze. She clutched Adrian’s shirt, her tiny fingers digging into his broad shoulders as she fought for her life in the center of the brightly lit, completely paralyzed room.
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The guests stood frozen in absolute horror. No one spoke. No one moved to help the woman groaning on the floor. The intimidating, commanding presence of Adrian Mercer had entirely hijacked the room, replacing the polite family gathering with a raw, terrifying display of a father's unyielding wrath.
"Again, baby. One more time," Adrian commanded gently, pressing the inhaler to her lips a second time. "You are safe. I am right here."
