Chapter 2
As Arthur continued to support Elena on the unforgiving marble, the distant murmur of the ballroom guests began to fade into a heavy, suffocating silence. Marcus Thorne, a tall, muscular bald man in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, strode purposefully across the room. His footsteps were measured and heavy, echoing against the marble like a countdown. Marcus, the head of private security for the venue and a close confidant of the groom's family, had seen enough accidents to recognize malicious intent when it walked on two legs. His face was a mask of stern, intimidating focus, his jaw clenched as he locked his gaze onto the cluster of people surrounding the fallen woman.
Elena’s breathing remained shallow. The sharp pain in her ankle had begun to throb into a dull, agonizing numbness that confirmed her worst fears. Arthur shielded her slightly, casting a protective glance toward the approaching security guard. He knew Marcus’s reputation for zero tolerance, especially when high-society events turned volatile.
Chloe, meanwhile, refused to soften her posture. She tossed her elaborate veil over her shoulder, her annoyance deepening at the sudden shift in attention away from her grand entrance. To Chloe, Elena’s injury was nothing more than an inconvenient theatrical display designed to ruin her meticulously planned spotlight. She stepped closer to the edge of the fallen woman, her expression hardening further as Marcus drew within arm's reach.
“Get up, Elena. Stop making a scene,” Chloe demanded dismissively, her voice carrying across the silent hall. “She's exaggerating. She always does.”
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Marcus stopped directly beside the bride, towering over her with an imposing frame. Without a single word of warning, his strong hand reached out and firmly grasped Chloe’s forearm, pushing her roughly back from the injured woman to clear a safe perimeter. The guests gasped in unison at the unprecedented display of force directed at the bride on her wedding day. Chloe stumbled backward, her sparkly sweetheart bodice catching the chandelier light as she flashed a look of sheer outrage at the security chief.
Marcus ignored her indignation entirely. He knelt beside Arthur, his gaze shifting to Elena's pale face. He had reviewed the security footage from the side hallway only an hour ago, and he knew precisely who had kicked that golden chair into Elena's path. The truth was about to detonate.
