Chapter 3 - THE GLASS DOORWAY
A sudden, deafening crash shattered the tension in the room.
The heavy glass French doors at the far end of the hall flew open.
Framed in the doorway stood Mateo, his dark hair disheveled, his grey three-piece suit rumpled at the shoulders.
His tie was pulled loose at his throat, his chest heaving as if he had run five miles through a blizzard.
His eyes swept across the grand room in a single second.
He saw the swollen mark on Sofia’s cheek.
He saw Victoria’s hand raised in the air.
He saw his son’s small blue shoes sticking out from beneath the oak table.
Mateo’s jaw set into a line of pure, terrifying iron.
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He didn't speak.
He surged forward, his leather dress shoes skidding slightly on the slick marble floor.
