PART 3 — The Overturned World
The confrontation escalated from psychological warfare to physical chaos in the span of a single heartbeat. Victoria reached across the desk, her hand diving toward the silver fountain pen, intending to force it into my fingers, but Elena lunged forward, her arms sweeping across the mahogany surface.
Papers flew into the air, a white blizzard of legal documents, corporate contracts, and financial statements fluttering through the dim library light like broken wings. The amber pill bottle clattered off the edge of the desk, sending dozens of small white tablets skittering across the highly polished hardwood floor.
"You insolent brat!" Victoria screamed, completely losing her aristocratic restraint.
She struck Elena across the face with the back of her hand, her heavy platinum rings leaving a jagged red welt across the young maid’s cheek. Elena stumbled backward, crying out in pain as she collided with a heavy velvet armchair, collapsing onto her knees.
Before Elena could recover, Victoria turned her fury entirely on me. She didn't grab the cup again; instead, her hands slammed against the side of my custom wheelchair with a violent, animalistic force.
The wheelchair tilted.
Because of my fractured spine, I had no core strength to stabilize myself. I felt the wheels lose their grip on the smooth hardwood, the heavy metal structure tipping sideways with a terrifying momentum.
A sharp cry escaped my lips as the world flipped upside down.
The heavy leather-and-chrome chair slammed violently onto its side, the impact echoing through the vast room like a thunderclap. My body was thrown onto the hard, unyielding floor. A brilliant, blinding white pain exploded through my injured back and shoulders, making me gasp for air that wouldn't come. My face struck the polished wood, reopening the cuts around my eye, a fresh trail of blood instantly staining the light grey fabric of my collar.
I lay face-down on the floor, entirely paralyzed from the waist down, my upper body wracked with violent tremors as I wept in absolute agony. Around me lay the scattered ruins of the Sterling empire—legal documents soaked in the spilled chemical fluid, white pills rolling into the crevices of the floorboards, and the overturned wheelchair in the background, its wheels still spinning with a quiet, mocking whir.
"Please..." I sobbed, my cheek pressed against the cold wood, my tears smearing the blood and dust. "Please, don't hurt her... don't hurt Elena..."
Through the gray haze of pain and sedation, I saw Victoria walking toward me. She looked down at me with an expression of disgust, as if I were nothing more than a broken piece of pottery that had stained her perfect floor. Her black high-heel shoe stopped just inches from my face, the leather gleaming under the light of the crystal chandelier.
With every ounce of strength remaining in my upper body, I dragged myself forward a single inch. My trembling fingers reached out, wrapping tightly around her ankle, clutching the leather of her high-heel shoe with a desperate, pathetic strength.
"Victoria... please," I pleaded, looking up at her with a tear-streaked, bruised, and completely broken face. "Take the shares... take everything... just let us go. Don't do this."
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Victoria stood entirely still, her eyes looking down at my clutching hand with a cold, detached amusement. She didn't pull her leg away; she simply enjoyed the sight of the woman her husband had loved groveling at her feet.
"It is too late for deals, Clara," she whispered, lifting her other foot to stomp down on my fingers. "You are going to join my husband in the family plot, and I am going to run this company until the day I die."
