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Chapter Thirty-Two: The Lion's Roar 2

Author: Sharon Rae
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-05 23:25:21

The room went dead silent, the kind of silence that comes before earthquakes.

Dominic stepped forward, his eyes locked on the screen like he was watching his entire world reshape itself.

His voice, when it came, was arctic wind and buried daggers.

"End the playback."

Jules did, but the damage was done. The truth hung in the air like poison gas.

Delacroix tried to speak, her voice coming out in a strangled whisper. "T-this is clearly a misunderstanding. The lighting was poor, the angle was wrong—"

Dominic turned to her, and I swear the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

"Get out."

She blinked, confusion replacing terror. "Excuse me?"

"You're fired. You leave this house now, or you'll be escorted out by security. Your company will be blacklisted from every luxury event on this coast. I'll make sure you never work in this industry again."

"You can't do that—"

"I just did."

Security guards appeared at the door as if summoned by magic.

Delacroix blanched, then turned on her heel and stormed out, her heels clicking against the marble like gunshots in a tomb.

I exhaled slowly, but my heart was still racing.

Because the worst was yet to come.

***

The ballroom felt different when we returned.

The air was thick with whispered conversations and barely contained excitement. Guests clustered in small groups, their faces flushed with the kind of anticipation that came from witnessing genuine drama among the elite.

And then I saw her.

Lydia Blackwood.

Still dressed in that navy velvet gown.

Still sipping champagne like she hadn't just tried to destroy her own son's life.

Still beautiful, still untouchable, still convinced of her own righteousness.

Dominic approached her with the slow, deliberate pace of a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run.

She looked up as he drew near, her eyes cool as winter morning. "Darling. What is it now? You look positively thunderous."

"You stole something from me," he said, his voice carrying across the immediate area and silencing nearby conversations.

She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "I did no such thing. Really, Dominic, these accusations are beneath you."

"Surveillance footage says otherwise."

She laughed, the sound like crystal breaking. "This is about that little box? I simply wanted to ensure your judgment hadn't been completely compromised. That girl has a track record of scandals that would make a tabloid editor weep with joy."

"You tried to sabotage a billion-dollar deal."

"I tried to protect your legacy from a gold-digging opportunist who's already dragged our family name through the mud."

The entire ballroom was listening now, conversations dying as the drama unfolded.

Dominic turned to face the crowd, his voice carrying to every corner of the room.

"You are no longer welcome in this house."

Lydia's face froze, her champagne glass halfway to her lips.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." His voice was steel wrapped in silk. "If you ever speak to my wife again, approach her, or so much as look at her wrong, it won't be security that removes you—it'll be me. Personally."

Gasps echoed through the ballroom. Someone dropped a champagne flute. Delilah—still being restrained in the corner—screamed something incoherent about justice.

But Lydia?

She stared at her son like she was seeing a stranger wearing his face.

Then her eyes shifted.

To me.

Cold. Calculating. Promising that this war was far from over.

She opened her mouth, probably to deliver some cutting final words—

But nothing came out.

Perhaps for the first time in her life, Lydia Blackwood had been rendered speechless.

She turned with the dignity of a queen going to her execution and walked out of the ballroom, her head high and her spine straight.

But everyone had seen her fall.

Everyone knew she'd lost.

Dominic turned back to me, and I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before.

Exhaustion. Relief. Peace.

But most of all, love.

Raw, honest, unguarded love.

"It's over," he said quietly, his voice meant only for me.

I looked up at him—this man who'd just chosen me over his own mother, who'd publicly defended me against his entire family, who'd burned bridges to keep me safe.

"They know who you are now," I whispered.

And for the first time in this entire war, I believed him when he said it was over.

Because the lion had finally roared.

And everyone had heard him.

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