Chapter 8 - The Aftermath
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Chloe’s knees buckled, and for a second, she would have hit the floor if Adrian’s arms hadn't shot out to catch her, pulling her against his chest in a fierce, protective embrace that defied every rule of the high-society gala around them.
Across the room, heads turned, whispers rippled through the clusters of elites, and the carefully constructed hierarchy of the Sterling dynasty trembled on its foundations. But Adrian didn't care about the gossip. He didn't care about the board members watching from the mezzanine, or the scandal that would consume tomorrow morning's headlines.
For two decades, he had lived as the lone survivor of a massacre of the soul. Now, holding the trembling weight of the girl in the black waitress uniform, he realized the war was only just beginning. Whoever had cast them out into the cold, whoever had ordered the fire, and whoever had forced his baby sister into a life of scrubbing floors—they were all still in this room.
