Chapter 7
"Wait!" a voice cried out from the periphery of the gathering.
The guests parted, revealing Brianna Foster. The twenty-eight-year-old woman was beautiful, resembling a movie star with her fair, rosy skin and cascading hair. She was dressed in casual, yet expensive family-party clothing, but her appearance was entirely overshadowed by the sheer, unadulterated panic radiating from her expression.
Brianna stepped forward into the bright, cinematic light of the living room center. Her hands were shaking violently as she held a sleek smartphone up against her chest. She was a cousin to Theresa, a peripheral member of the Mercer family who usually remained silently in the background, enjoying the wealth without questioning the morality of the patriarchs.
"Brianna, stay out of this," Walter ordered sharply, his protective instincts for his immediate family kicking in. "This is a private matter between Adrian and Theresa."
"It's not private anymore, Uncle Walter," Brianna said, her American accent trembling with an urgent, desperate energy. She looked at Adrian, her eyes wide with a mixture of profound fear and moral outrage.
She took another step forward, putting herself directly in the line of fire between the enraged father and the accused aunt.
"I was standing near the hallway before you came back from the study, Adrian," Brianna confessed, her voice shaking but resolute. "I was recording a video for my social media. Just panning the room, capturing the party."
Theresa’s face drained of all remaining color. Her rosy cheeks turned completely, deathly pale. "Brianna, put that phone away right now," Theresa hissed, taking a frantic step toward the younger woman. "You don't know what you are doing!"
"Don't you take another step toward her," Adrian commanded. The sheer, physical dominance in his deep voice stopped Theresa dead in her tracks, her feet rooted to the hardwood floor.
Adrian turned his deep-set dark eyes toward Brianna. The intimidating presence he exuded was overwhelming, but he kept his tone completely even, recognizing that she was an ally in a room full of enemies.
"What do you have, Brianna?" Adrian asked softly.
Brianna swallowed hard, her eyes darting between the furious, towering African American man and the terrified, cornered woman across the room. She knew that by speaking up, she was burning her bridges with the Mercer family hierarchy. But looking at the small, exhausted four-year-old girl resting on Adrian’s shoulder, her conscience absolutely refused to remain silent.
"I recorded what happened before you got here," Brianna said, her voice a shaken, urgent whisper. She extended her trembling hand, offering the smartphone to Adrian. "You need to see this. You need to see what she really did."
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"Give me that phone!" Theresa suddenly shrieked, entirely abandoning her aristocratic composure. She lunged forward with wild, uncoordinated desperation, aiming to snatch the device from Brianna’s hands before Adrian could take it.
She never even came close.
