Chapter 1 - THE SECOND SLAP NEVER LANDED
Vanessa’s hand came down fast.
Mine came up faster.
Her wrist stopped less than three inches from my face.
The ballroom went silent.
Sixty people.
No music.
No laughter.
Nothing except Vanessa’s sudden gasp and the sound of my own breathing.
I stood slowly, still holding her wrist.
Cake frosting streaked my palms. My knees hurt from the marble floor. My cheek still burned from the first slap.
Vanessa stared at me.
“Let go.”
I did.
Immediately.
Not because she commanded me.
Because I didn’t need to hurt her to make the point.
She stepped back.
“You touched me.”
“You tried to hit me twice.”
Her face twisted.
“You threw cake on my dress.”
That was how this started.
One of the waiters had bumped my shoulder as I carried a delivery tray through the crowded ballroom. The cake box tilted. A piece of frosting touched Vanessa’s sleeve.
She demanded I clean it.
Then demanded I kneel.
Then slapped me when I refused.
And because nearly everyone in that mansion knew she was engaged to Dominic Moretti, nobody stopped her.
I had finally knelt because security blocked the door and Vanessa threatened to report me for damaging a dress worth more than my car.
Then she mentioned Mom.
“Maybe if your mother had raised you better, she wouldn’t be lying in some charity hospital waiting for strangers to pay her bills.”
That sentence brought the fighter back.
Now Vanessa looked at the crowd.
“Did everyone see that?”
Nobody answered.
Then Dominic Moretti stepped through the ballroom doors.
I had not seen him arrive.
Maybe nobody had.
His dark suit was immaculate.
His expression was not.
His eyes moved from Vanessa’s wrist to my red cheek.
Then to the cake smeared across the floor.
“What happened?”
Vanessa started crying instantly.
“She attacked me.”
I almost laughed.
Dominic looked at me.
“Did you?”
“No.”
Vanessa pointed.
“She grabbed me.”
“After you raised your hand,” I said.
Dominic’s gaze shifted.
“Raised your hand?”
“She ruined my dress!”
One of the guests looked away.
Dominic saw it.
“So you hit her.”
Vanessa opened her mouth.
Then shut it.
Dominic turned toward his head of security.
“Pull the ballroom cameras.”
Vanessa went pale.
That told me more than any confession.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“The cameras don’t need—”
“Pull them.”
Security moved immediately.
Vanessa stepped closer to him.
“You’re embarrassing me.”
Dominic’s eyes stayed on her.
“No.”
His voice was frighteningly quiet.
“You did that yourself.”
Then he looked at me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
That was a lie.
My cheek hurt.
My knees hurt.
My pride hurt worst.
But I wanted out.
“I’m leaving.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Of course you are. People like you always run when consequences show up.”
I stopped.
Turned.
“People like me?”
She smiled.
“Disposable.”
Dominic’s face changed.
I expected anger.
Instead, I saw recognition.
As if he had heard that exact word before.
Then security returned with a tablet.
The first clip showed everything.
The bump.
The frosting.
Vanessa blocking me.
Her forcing me to kneel.
The first slap.
Then her insult about Mom.
Then the second attempt.
Nobody spoke.
Vanessa’s crying stopped.
Dominic watched the clip twice.
Then he said:
“Get her out.”
Vanessa froze.
“What?”
“My house.”
“Dominic—”
“My rules.”
“I’m your fiancée.”
“Not tonight.”
Her face turned white.
Two female security employees approached.
Vanessa jerked away.
“You’re throwing me out over a delivery girl?”
Dominic looked at her.
“No.”
He paused.
“I’m throwing you out because I finally saw what you do when you think I’m not watching.”
That sentence landed harder than anything else.
Vanessa stared at him.
Then at me.
The hatred in her eyes felt personal.
Too personal.
I had known her seven weeks.
Why did she look like she had hated me for years?
I started toward the service hall.
Dominic called my name.
“Avery.”
I stopped.
He had never asked my name during those deliveries.
At least not in front of me.
“How do you know my name?”
The room went still again.
Dominic looked like he realized he had made a mistake.
Then Vanessa laughed.
Not kindly.
Not nervously.
Like she had been waiting for this.
“Oh.”
She looked at me.
“He never told you?”
“Told me what?”
Vanessa smiled through the humiliation.
“You really think all those delivery requests were mine?”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you talking about?”
She looked at Dominic.
“Go ahead.”
Nobody moved.
“Tell her why you’ve had her coming to this house twice a week.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Vanessa.”
But she was already enjoying the damage.
Then she looked directly at me.
“Because your father didn’t die in an industrial accident, Avery.”
May you like
I stopped breathing.
And Dominic Moretti did not deny it.
