Chapter 2 - The Confrontation on Table NineDownstairs, the party was at its peak.
Over seventy high-society guests, minor influencers, and corrupt local officials were drinking vintage champagne from Ethan's private cellar. Green laser lights swept across the marble foyer, and Bianca stood on top of the long mahogany dining table in a dazzling silver dress, tossing crystal glasses onto the floor to watch them shatter while her friends cheered.
"To the Whitmore fortune!" Bianca shouted, holding a bottle of Dom Pérignon above her head. "And to Ethan, who's currently stuck in a snowstorm in Chicago!"
Laughter rippled through the room.
Suddenly, the pounding music died instantly. The laser lights flickered out, replaced by the harsh, blinding white glare of the venue's emergency floodlights.
A collective murmur of annoyance swept through the crowd.
"Hey! Who turned off the tunes?!" a man in a velvet tuxedo yelled, waving a half-empty glass.
"Marcus, turn the music back on!" Bianca demanded, looking toward the DJ booth. "I paid you fifty grand to run this bash!"
From the top of the grand marble staircase, a single figure descended.
Ethan Whitmore didn't scream. He didn't rush forward. He walked down the steps with slow, deliberate, heavy thuds that made the entire room fall into a suffocating silence. He had discarded his snow-covered coat, wearing a dark, tailored suit, his hands tucked calmly into his pockets.
Bianca’s champagne bottle froze halfway to her lips. The color drained from her face, leaving her heavy makeup looking like a pale mask.
"E... Ethan?" she stammered, stepping down from the table, her high heels clicking loudly on the marble. "Darling! You're home! The flight... they said Logan Airport was completely shut down!"
"I took my private helicopter through the pass, Bianca," Ethan said, his voice echoing clearly across the frozen room.
"Oh, sweetheart!" Bianca forced a brilliant, dazzled smile, stepping toward him with open arms. "You surprised us! We were just throwing a little charity fundraiser for the local children's hospital! I wanted to surprise you for Christmas!"
Ethan stopped three feet from her. He looked at her diamonds—a five-carat canary diamond necklace resting against her collarbone.
"A charity fundraiser," Ethan repeated softly.
"Yes! Look at all these wonderful people who came to support our vision!" Bianca gestured around the room.
Ethan reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the plastic plate holding the moldy, hard crusts of bread, and set it down on the table right beside her crystal champagne glass.
The room went deathly quiet.
"What is this, Bianca?" Ethan asked quietly.
Bianca blinked, a flicker of panic darting across her eyes before she smoothed it over with an airy laugh. "Oh! That? The nannies must have forgotten to clear the staff snacks. You know how lazy the help is these days, Ethan—"
CRASH.
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Ethan didn't yell, but he swept his hand across the table, sending fifty crystal glasses and champagne bottles shattering onto the marble floor. Women shrieked, jumping back as glass sprayed across their designer shoes.
"Those were not staff snacks, Bianca," Ethan said, stepping into her personal space until she could feel the cold heat radiating from his frame. "Those were the only calories my five-year-old daughters have had in three days."
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