Chapter 4: The Billionaire’s Wrath
Arthur Sterling did not walk; he lunged forward with the terrifying speed of a striking predator. He shoved past clusters of horrified guests, his tailored black tuxedo jacket parting as he bypassed the velvet ropes and shattered glass displays without a single glance backward.
The background audio shifted into a heavy, rhythmic heartbeat pulse, thudding like a war drum in time with his furious strides.
Evelyn shrunk back against a marble pillar, whimpering as Arthur closed the distance between them, but he ignored her for the moment. His primal instincts drove him toward the gaping hole in the drywall where his son was trapped.
Dropping to his knees amidst the plaster dust, Arthur stared into the dark cavity. His pale blue eyes caught the frightened, tear-stained face of the boy looking back at him.
The air in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. Arthur’s chest heaved, his breathing coming in ragged, furious gasps as the terrible, impossible truth crystallized in his mind. Two years ago, Evelyn had presented him with death certificates, consular reports, and grief counselors, swearing that his only son, Lucas, had perished during a tragic overseas trip. He had mourned. He had buried an empty casket. And all along, the boy had been locked away inside the very walls of the home he shared with the woman he trusted.
Arthur’s hands clenched into massive fists. With a roar of pure, unadulterated, uncontainable fury, he grabbed the vertical wooden studs flanking the drywall cavity.
Wood snapping with a violent, deafening CRACK echoed through the hall as Arthur used his bare hands to rip the structural timber apart, tearing the drywall away in jagged chunks regardless of the splinters piercing his skin.
"Lucas?!" Arthur screamed in raw fury, his voice shaking the crystal chandeliers overhead as he reached deep into the cavity, swept his arms around the boy’s frail body, and hoisted him out into the light. "You swore to me he died overseas!"
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He clutched the trembling eight-year-old tightly against his chest, shielding him from the wreckage. Lucas buried his face in his father's tuxedo shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
Evelyn collapsed against the marble pillar, sliding down to the floor in a heap of red silk, utterly paralyzed as the terrifying reality of her husband's wrath surrounded her.
