Chapter 6 - The Projection of Blood
Before Jaxson could recover his voice, Alistair Vance signaled the master broadcast suite at the rear of the ballroom.
Instantly, the three eighty-foot high-definition projection screens hanging above the stage flickered with static.
The promotional videos showing Jaxson’s corporate achievements vanished in a heartbeat.
In their place, the crystal-clear eight-K surveillance footage from the Silver Star Diner filled the screens.
The entire ballroom gasped in collective, visceral horror.
On the seventy-foot displays, every single guest, senator, and international journalist watched in horrifying clarity as Jaxson Vance’s face contorted into vicious rage.
They watched his arm blur, striking my face with brutal, cowardly force.
They watched the glass carafe explode across my chest.
They heard the sickening crunch of his Italian leather loafer grinding into my fingers on the greasy linoleum.
And loudest of all, the high-definition audio captured Jaxson’s arrogant, mocking laugh echoing through the diner:
“Clumsy little peasant… you splashed two drops of hazelnut drip onto my custom cashmere blazer… buy yourself some ice, sweetheart.”
The silence that followed in the Pierre Ballroom was heavier than a falling mountain.
The United States Deputy Secretary of Defense, who was sitting at the primary VIP table, slowly stood up, his face dark with profound disgust.
He looked up at Jaxson on the stage and deliberately turned his back, placing his official clearance badge onto the table.
“You struck a woman in cold blood over a cup of coffee, Vance?” the Secretary said, his voice carrying across the entire front row.
“The Department of Defense does not partner with cowardly domestic abusers.”
Bianca Caldwell began to hyperventilate, desperately grabbing the microphone on the podium.
“It was an accident!” Bianca shrieked hysterically, her polished socialite facade completely disintegrating into panic.
“She attacked Jaxson first! She provoked him! The video was edited by AI!”
I looked at Bianca with a smile so sharp it could draw blood.
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“The video is authenticated under federal cryptographic standards, Bianca,” I said calmly.
“And while we are discussing unedited footage, let us review your personal financial disclosures from this morning.”
