Chapter 8 - The Cornered Beast
A trapped animal is dangerous, but a trapped billionaire who realizes his money is suddenly worthless is lethal.
Richard Croft’s eyes darkened with a sudden, murderous rage. He realized the legal battle was lost. The PR battle was lost. The only thing he had left was vengeance.
With a speed that belied his age, Richard lunged at me. He didn't go for my throat; he went for my purse, desperately trying to get the remote, or the phone, or anything that could give him an ounce of leverage.
Before his hands could even graze the silk of my dress, a shadow moved across the room.
The lead tactical guard stepped between us, catching Richard’s wrist mid-air. The guard didn't flinch as he violently twisted the billionaire’s arm behind his back, driving him face-first into the cold marble floor.
CRACK.
Richard’s nose shattered against the stone. Blood pooled instantly, staining the pristine floor. He gasped in pain, thrashing against the guard’s immense weight, but he was pinned entirely.
"Dad!" Preston screamed, scrambling backward away from the diamonds, completely useless, entirely paralyzed by fear.
"Keep him on the floor," I ordered the guard, adjusting my dress.
I looked down at Richard Croft. The great titan of the West Coast, bleeding on his own imported marble, pinned by a man he would usually pay to open his car door.
"Assaulting a woman in front of a hundred witnesses, surrounded by armed guards, while under federal investigation," I noted dryly. "I must say, Richard, your decision-making skills under pressure are severely lacking."
I turned to the crowd of elites. They were huddled together, clutching their written confessions to their chests like shields. They looked at me not with the disdain they had shown earlier, but with absolute, terrifying reverence. I wasn't just a girl in a ripped dress anymore. I was the executioner.
"Make sure all the witness statements are collected," I ordered the guards. "Place them in the evidence lockboxes."
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The guards moved efficiently through the crowd, collecting the yellow legal pads. The billionaires handed them over eagerly, desperately hoping their cooperation would save them from the Croft family's radioactive fallout.
I took a deep breath. The bruise on my cheek was throbbing, a dull ache that radiated through my jaw. But the pain was nothing compared to the soaring, absolute triumph burning in my chest.
