At my birthday party, my husband tied me to a ceiling beam and wh*pped me thirty times because I had stained his mistress’s dress. “Maybe now you’ll learn your place,” he laughed while everyone watched. I didn’t cry. When they finally cut me down, I picked up my phone and called my five brothers. “Make his entire family beg for mercy,” I whispered. Then the front gates suddenly slammed shut.
Six foot two, calm as stone, in a dark suit that cost more than Isaac’s watch.
Leo, Julian, Marcus, and Caleb followed in a single line behind him.
No one spoke.
No one had to.
Every guest pressed backward without realizing they were moving.
Isaac laughed — the short, nervous kind.
“Flora, what is this?
Some kind of performance?”
Noah stopped three feet from him.
He looked at the red marks on my wrists.
Then he looked at Isaac for a long moment without saying a single word.
That silence was worse than anything.
“Get out of my house,” Isaac said.
His voice cracked on the last word.
Noah turned to me.
“Show me.”
I held up both wrists.
The room went so quiet I could hear Clover’s champagne glass touch the table.
Wendy stepped forward.
“She provoked him.
She ruined an expensive dress and embarrassed this family in front of—”
“Wendy.” Julian’s voice was soft.
“I’d stop talking right now.”
Then Marcus held up his phone.
On the screen was a document.
A financial document.
He turned it slowly so Arthur could see it clearly.
Arthur Vance’s face went the color of ash.
“What is that?” Isaac demanded.
Marcus smiled without warmth.
“Ask your father.”
Arthur grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself.
