The audience explodes with accusations and questions, but I don’t miss the smug smile playing across my father’s face.
The security is now flanking Bolt and me with their pistols drawn.
Bolt takes a step forward, putting me behind him, and the entire room watches this live drama unfold, instinctively knowing Bolt is not afraid of the consequences.
Clark’s voice cuts sharply at Bolt. “You’ll assault security in front of witnesses? That’s bold.”
Bolt doesn’t even look at him, still focused on the men in front of him. “I’ve done worse.”
A few gasps ripple through the ballroom.
I should be horrified. Instead, I feel pride. For the first time,someone chose me for me. Not my money. Not my family name. Just me.
My father’s mask slips enough to see the anger beneath.
“Nicoletta,” he says coldly, “tell your… guest to move.”
I step out from behind Bolt, shoulders straight. “No.”
The room goes still.
I lift my chin. “You spent my whole life deciding what I’d say. Who I’d be. Who I’d belong to.”
My father’s face hardens. “This is not the place.”
“It’s exactly the place.” I step closer to him. “You taught me appearances matter more than truth. Tonight, maybe everyone will get both.”
Clark’s voice drops. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
I meet his eyes. Unafraid of the consequences, drawing strength from Bolt’s bold move.
“No,” I say softly, “I finally do.”
The screen flickers behind us again, and the interior of Brad’s Malibu beach house appears, followed by my father and Stuart Hinchman. My father calls out for Brad on the video. The sound is sharp and somewhat distorted.
The two men search the first floor, then my father is out of the frame. When he appears again, they are taking the stairs to the second floor. The screen goes black, then pops on in Brad’s bedroom.
The audience has gone silent again, their eyes glued to the screen on stage.
Brad spins around in his bedroom, visibly surprised. The three men argue, but the sound is too distorted to hear the exact words. Then my father extracts the knife from behind him, lunges forward, and drives the blade into Brad’s stomach.
Women scream out in the audience. One woman faints, and a wave of nausea engulfs me.
I stare up at Bolt. “How did you—?” My knees weaken, and Bolt’s arm around me is the only thing keeping me upright.
CHAPTER 18
NICOLETTA
Someone flicks on the lights, bathing the stage like a spotlight. Men charge the stage. My father spins around. He twists the gun out of the guard’s hand, then yanks me away from Bolt with inhuman strength.
He fists the gun, holds it out in front of him, then wraps his arm around my waist, using me as a human shield. “Don’t anyone come any closer.”
“Mr. Williams, put the gun down.” The guard carefully approaches as my father walks us backwards.
Bolt sidesteps around the guards, his eyes never leaving mine.
The ballroom goes quiet. Some huddle at the foot of the stage, waiting and watching the drama play out. Others are frozen in place on the stairs leading to the stage.
