Chapter 7 - Shattered Porcelain, Flying Teeth
Under Grant's perspective, the world suddenly began to move in a terrifying, hyper-focused blur.
*He had to fix this. He had to silence her. If he could just grab her arm, pull her out of the room, and explain
things to Julian, the promotion would still be his. He couldn't let three years of hard work evaporate because of a
stupid, ungrateful bitch.*
I lunged forward, my hands reaching out to grab Clara's throat, my face twisted in a mask of absolute rage.
“You ruined me! You stupid, ungrateful—”
But I never reached her.
Suddenly, the space between me and my wife was occupied by a towering wall of charcoal wool. Before I could
even register Julian Cross’s movement, his left hand shot out like a steel piston, grabbing my collar with a grip so
violent it tore my silk tie.
I looked up, meeting his grey eyes. They weren't the eyes of a corporate executive. They were the eyes of a
predator who had finally cornered his prey.
“This is for my sister,” Julian said, his voice flat, calm, and terrifying.
Then, his right fist came forward.
It felt like being struck by a high-speed train. The impact was an explosion of white-hot pain that shattered my
world. A loud, sickening, wet crack echoed through my skull as my jaw fractured under the immense pressure of
his knuckles.
I felt my head snap violently backward. My vision shattered into a million spinning stars as my feet left the
kitchen floor.
Through the red haze of my own blood, I saw two small, white, hard objects flying through the air—my front
teeth, knocked clean from their roots, accompanied by a heavy spray of red. They bounced off the polished
mahogany dining table, landing with a sharp, metallic ring against the porcelain soup bowls.
The ground rushed up to meet me. I crashed heavily onto the hard kitchen tiles, my shoulder colliding with the
sideboard. The crystal glasses above shattered, raining down on me like a shower of diamonds.
I curled into a tight, trembling ball, clutching my face as blood poured from my mouth, staining my pristine
white shirt and my expensive blue suit. I tried to speak, to scream, to demand his arrest, but all that came out was a
pathetic, wet, gurgling gasp through my broken jaw.
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Above me, Julian stood perfectly still, his knuckles bruised and bleeding, looking down at me as if I were
nothing but a stain on the floor.
