Chapter 4

The ballroom went silent.

Every laugh died in someone's throat.

Wine ran down Gloria Dane's thinning scalp.

It dripped across her custom suit.

She looked like a plucked bird left out in the rain.

Gloria stood stunned for two full seconds.

Then she let out a furious scream.

"You bastard. You threw wine at me?"

Gordon looked like his soul had left his body.

He pointed at me, furious and terrified at once.

"You ungrateful animal. Are you trying to destroy this family?

"I'll beat you to death myself."

Damian shouted from the side, feeding the fire.

"Dad, he doesn't respect you at all.

"He doesn't even care what happens to Grandfather's ashes."

Something vicious came into Gordon's eyes.

He turned toward the doorway and roared at his assistant.

"Bring me the black box."

The assistant hurried in carrying a dark urn in shaking hands.

Everett's ashes were inside.

Everything behind my eyes went tight.

A dull blade seemed to carve straight through my heart.

"Gordon Blackwell, don't you dare."

My vision went red as I lunged forward.

I was still one step too late.

Damian snatched the urn away.

His mouth twisted into a grotesque smile.

He lifted the black container over his head.

Then, while making sure I was watching, he smashed it against the marble floor.

Crash.

The urn broke apart.

Pale ash rose through the air.

My mother actually waved a hand in front of her face.

"The old man's dead and he's still ruining the hotel's carpet.

"What terrible luck."

Gordon watched me without any expression at all.

"This is what happens when you won't obey."

I dropped to my knees.

I reached desperately for the scattered ash.

But it had already mixed with red wine and broken glass.

However carefully I moved, I couldn't gather any of it.

My fingernails dug into the seams of the marble.

Blood covered my fingertips in seconds.

"Grandfather..."

A broken sound of grief tore out of my throat.

Hatred surged through my chest like molten rock.

Gloria wiped the wine off her face.

She looked down at me and laughed with twisted delight.

"Ha. Good throw.

"I like them difficult.

"Security."

She shouted toward the hall.

"Hold him down.

"Take him upstairs to my suite.

"By morning I'll make sure he never fights me again."

Several big guards rushed at me.

The Blackwells watched with cruel satisfaction.

The guests around us stayed cold and silent.

No one tried to help.

They all thought I deserved whatever came next.

I slowly stood up.

Blood and ash covered both my hands.

I stared at Gordon, at Damian, at my mother.

The guards' hands were inches from my jacket.

Boom.

A deafening impact shook the ballroom.

The heavy bronze doors blew inward under a controlled tactical breach.

Gordon dropped to the floor in terror.

Screams erupted across the room.

As the smoke cleared, a formation of tactical police and licensed Obsidian Crown security officers flooded the entrance.

Helena Drake walked in wearing a long black coat.

Her boots ground over the broken glass as she crossed the floor.

Her sharp gaze swept the ballroom, and her voice carried absolute authority.

"Who thinks they can touch him?"