in the VIP lounge upstairs right now.”

I ignored him. I pulled the phone out and brought it to my face.

The screen illuminated, casting a pale, bluish glow across my

bruised cheek. I pressed a single button. A direct line. Untraceable.

Unblockable.

It rang only once.

“Dad.”

My voice was entirely calm when I spoke into the receiver. The

word hung in the air, light and conversational. It was far too calm

for a woman with a torn dress and blood on her lips. It was the

voice of a woman ordering a coffee, not a woman who had just

been violently assaulted.

Julian’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of

confusion crossing his eyes at my tone, before his arrogance

swallowed it whole again.

“Lock every exit.”

I said the words clearly, ensuring the microphone caught every

syllable. I didn't shout. I didn't whisper. It was an executive

command, issued with absolute authority.

I raised the phone slightly closer to my ear, my eyes still locked

onto Julian's. The orchestra continued to play, the guests continued

to murmur, completely oblivious to the mechanism that had just

been triggered beneath their feet.

“Deploy the security team,” I commanded, my voice never

wavering.

Then I added, dropping the pitch of my voice into a register of

cold, absolute finality,

“Seal the entire estate.”

A short silence followed on the line. I could hear the faint hum

of advanced servers, the quiet, disciplined breathing of the man on

the other end. He wasn't my biological father. He was something

much more terrifying. He was the architect of the empire I stood to

inherit. An empire that operated in the shadows, where the

Sterlings of the world were nothing more than noisy insects.

Then, a deep, gravelly voice answered.

“Understood, ma’am. Protocol Omega initiated.”

The call ended. The screen went dark.

Julian stared at me for half a second. He blinked, trying to

process what he had just witnessed. Then, he burst out laughing. It

wasn't the cruel, mocking laughter from before. It was genuine,

disbelieving hilarity. He threw his head back, the sound echoing off

the marble pillars.

“That’s your big plan?” he gasped, wiping a tear of mirth from

his eye. “You're calling your daddy? What is he going to do? Sue

me? Write me a strongly worded letter?”

His friends joined him, their laughter rolling through the

ballroom in ugly, sycophantic waves.

“You seriously think somebody’s coming to save you?” one of

his friends jeered, stepping closer, emboldened by Julian's

amusement.

More laughter rippled through the crowd. One man in a navy

tuxedo actually lifted his champagne glass in my direction in a

mock toast. Another woman, draped in pearls, smiled behind her

hand, her eyes dancing with cruel delight.

They weren’t witnessing violence anymore. To them, this had

transitioned from an uncomfortable altercation to top-tier

entertainment. And in their minds, the ending had already been