Chapter 4 - THE UNRAVELING OF MICHAEL WHITMORE
The blood completely vanished from Michael’s face, leaving him looking like a corpse dressed in designer evening wear.
Your partner.
The words echoed in the cavernous ballroom, bouncing off the crystal chandeliers and landing heavily in the ears of every influential banker, investor, and socialite present. Michael’s brain short-circuited. Zariah? Partner to Joon Kang? It was as absurd as a street urchin being crowned king of England. And yet, here Joon stood, radiating a dark, protective dominance that dared anyone in the room to challenge his claim.
"J-Joon," Michael stammered, abandoning all pretense of dignity as he wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. "I... I didn't realize. I mean, of course, anyone is welcome, but..." He swallowed hard, his eyes darting desperately to Zariah’s protruding belly. The reality of what those curves represented was beginning to tear through his fragile ego like a buzzsaw. Twins. She was carrying twins. The medical reports he had paid a corrupt fertility specialist to forge, the ones he used to convince her she was subhuman—they were lies. Or worse, she had blossomed into her true power the moment she was free of his toxic gravity.
Chloe could no longer contain her fury. She shoved past Michael, her ivory lace gown rustling aggressively as she thrust herself into Zariah’s path.
"Are you out of your mind, Zariah?" Chloe shrieked, her voice losing its polished, aristocratic veneer and dropping into a shrill, hysterical pitch. "You show up here, uninvited, wearing a circus tent, trying to steal the spotlight on my wedding day because you're a bitter, washed-up old hag who couldn't keep a husband? Get out! Guards! Security!"
Several burly security guards in tight black suits stepped forward from the edges of the room, looking intensely uncomfortable. They looked at Chloe, then at Michael, and finally at Joon Kang.
Joon didn't even look at the guards. He simply raised his left hand slightly, adjusting the cuff of his shirt.
From the shadows near the entrance, three men in identical charcoal suits—men whose lapels bore the discreet, unmistakable pin of Joon’s private security detail—stepped out and casually placed their hands inside their jackets. They didn't draw weapons, but the cold, dead certainty in their eyes told the Plaza security team everything they needed to know: Take one step toward them, and you will not leave this building alive.
The Plaza guards froze in their tracks, collectively taking a synchronized step backward.
Zariah looked down at Chloe with a calm, pitying detachment that stung far worse than any insult.
May you like
"Keep your voice down, Chloe," Zariah said, her voice smooth, rich, and dripping with an effortless authority that commanded the entire room. "You’re making a scene. And besides, you should be thanking me. After all, I’m the one who finally broke Michael of his habit of collecting things he’s too weak to keep."
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