A Hot Slap
Avery’s heels clicked angrily against the pavement as she approached the familiar facade of her parents’ house, dragging her luggage like a reluctant companion. The front door swung open before she could even reach for the handle.
“Mother!” Avery called out, her voice tinged with frustration and defeat.
Dora stood at the threshold, a perfectly plucked eyebrow arched in surprise. “What is it? Why are you back with-” Her gaze dropped to the suitcase. “Your bag.”
With a gesture more forceful than necessary, Avery heaved the suitcase onto the welcome mat. It landed with an ominous thud, the sound reverberating through the otherwise silent hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me Cathleen had grown some balls?”
“Ah.” Dora’s eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on her lips. “That girl talks back, so cheeky and sassy.” But there was a hint of respect in her tone, begrudging as it might be.
“Did her husband see you?” Dora inquired, leaning casually against the door frame; her curiosity barely masked.
“Yep,” Avery spat out the word, “he’s the one who opened the door; very much uninterested in me, he kissed her and made sure to thrust his tongue in her mouth right in front of me, as though I didn’t exist.”
“What?” Dora’s voice rose in disbelief. “It’s okay, we will find a way to make him fall for you.”
Meanwhile, the glossy black envelope of Glow Girl’s invitation slid across Olivia’s marble countertop, catching the light. With deliberate slowness, she traced a manicured finger over the embossed logo before flipping it open. Her lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes-a smile predicated on ambition rather than joy.
Olivia’s gaze fixed on her own reflection, the glass framing her determined expression against the backdrop of the city’s sprawling skyline. She understood with certainty that Cathleen, now the coveted new face of Glow Girl, had taken what she believed was rightfully hers. “Tomorrow, Xavier will be mine,” she vowed softly to herself, a steely resolve in her eyes. Avery’s failures were inconsequential now; it was Olivia’s turn to leave an indelible mark on this game of power and ambition.
Olivia vowed to make sure that Cathleen pays for everything tomorrow at the Glow Girl function.
Meanwhile At the Knight Group Int., sunlight slanted through the blinds of Xavier Knight’s austere office, casting long shadows over the gleaming mahogany desk. The air was thick with tension-an undercurrent that hummed like a live wire as Xavier perused the report in his hands. The clink of glass on wood punctuated the silence as he set down his whiskey tumbler and called out to his assistant without lifting his gaze.
“Caleb,” his voice cool and unyielding, “get Finn in here.”
Moments later, the door swung open, and Finn entered, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. A forced calmness settled over him as he approached the desk, but it did little to mask the underlying agitation. “Uncle, you called for me?”
“Explain this.” Xavier flung the file across the desk with precision, its contents spilling forth like an accusation.
Finn’s frown deepened as he recognized the documents, his fingers betraying a slight tremor as he gathered them up. “This was for my wedding,” he stated defensively, yet there was a hollow ring to his justification.
“You booked a honeymoon for your runaway bride with company money-not money from your pocket?” Xavier’s words were like ice shards, each meticulously aimed.
Finn shifted, the leather of the chair creaking under his discomfort. His voice took on a bitter edge. “Firstly, ever since you married my girlfriend, you think you can walk all over me.”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.
At the corner office, Caleb inhaled sharply, his hand shooting to his mouth as if to stifle the words that had slipped free of Finn’s lips.
Xavier’s smile was thin and chilling-a predator baring teeth. “You must be so much in love with my wife,” he taunted, his eyes alight with a cold fire. “But I am not here to discuss my wife. I’m here to discuss business.”
“Why won’t it bother me when you are a piece of shit!” Finn’s voice, now raised, cracked the veneer of professionalism that had been holding on by mere threads.
Caleb, sensing the imminent storm, shut his eyes tight. There was no stopping what would come next.
Xavier’s tall, lean frame rose from his seat with fluid grace, like a predator honing in on its prey. His hand swung out in a swift arc, delivering a slap so powerful that it reverberated off the walls of the room. Finn’s head whipped to the side, his vision blurring as he struggled to regain his balance on his chair. His ears rang with the sound of impact, and he could feel the sting of Xavier’s palm against his cheek, like a burning brand. The force of the blow had nearly knocked him off his feet, leaving him reeling and disoriented.
“I called you here to discuss the missing funds, and you sit there-thinking it’s okay to talk about my wife? What do you think you know about her? Huh?” Xavier’s tone was deadly, each word a pointed dagger as he readjusted his suit jacket with meticulous care.
Returning to his seat, the chill in his eyes remained fixed on Finn. “Now, where were we? The funds-I want them back in the company account before three hours.”
The demand hung heavy in the air-a gauntlet thrown, a challenge made. In the heart of Knight Group International, where power plays were as common as handshakes, the lines between family, love, and business blurred into a dangerous game where betrayal was the currency and violence was the language spoken fluently.
A deep, rich crimson bloomed across Finn’s hand as he instinctively brought it up to his nose, warmth spilling between his fingers. The metallic tang of blood filled his senses, a stark reminder of the line that had just been crossed. He could feel the sticky, thick texture on his skin, and the sharp scent of iron coated his taste buds. Despite the dizziness that threatened to topple him, defiance ignited in his eyes as he staggered to his feet. His body trembled with adrenaline and anger, a dangerous combination pulsing through his veins like wildfire.
“I quit!” His declaration was half-muffled by the hand clamped over his bleeding nose, but the intent behind it was as clear and sharp as shattered glass.
Xavier leaned back in his executive chair, a predator at ease in his den. “Even better,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching with the barest hint of satisfaction. The air between them crackled with the remnants of unspoken words and simmering rage.
“But quitting doesn’t mean I won’t want my money back,” Xavier continued, each syllable dripping with an icy calm that belied the violence of his earlier outburst. “Make sure it’s in the company account in 3 hours.” His dismissal was a flick of the wrist, casual, as though banishing an insignificant annoyance from his kingdom.
Finn clenched his jaw, the taste of iron and defeat mingling on his tongue. He felt the weight of Xavier’s gaze, heavy and unrelenting, as he turned towards the door. With each step, the carpet seemed to swallow the sound of his retreat, leaving only the echo of a family bond fracturing beyond repair.