At his feet lay his brown leather briefcase, dropped the exact second he witnessed the violent act. His face, usually calm and composed, was a portrait of absolute, staggering disbelief. He looked at his elderly mother, trembling and covered in food, and then at his wife, who was still wearing a sneer of arrogant satisfaction. The shock in David’s eyes quickly morphed into a cold, terrifying rage.

David crossed the massive dining room in three long, furious strides. The guests practically shrank into their velvet chairs as the sheer force of his momentum swept past them.

He reached the head of the table and immediately pulled his weeping mother behind his broad shoulders, shielding her from his wife. Eleanor’s sneer faltered as she looked up at her husband, finally realizing the immense gravity of her mistake.

"How dare you!" David roared, his deep voice shaking the crystal on the table. "Do that to my mother."