Chapter 2

The air felt thick, like it had frozen in place.

Everyone stared at us with wide eyes, as if they'd witnessed the wildest horror scene imaginable.

I walked over, pressed the tip of my shoe against his face, and ground his handsome mug into the icy floor.

I bent down and whispered in his ear, watching his pupils shrink in terror, "Now, tell me, who's the one with no manners?"

He let out a raspy noise from his throat, unable to say a single word.

I looked up and scanned the crowd, letting my gaze linger on every face.

All those folks who'd been snickering a minute ago suddenly lowered their heads. None of them had the guts to look me in the eye.

At last, my eyes locked onto Victoria—my wife, the one who was always cool as ice, like nothing could ever shake her.

But right now, her face was ashen. More precisely, downright pale.

Her elegant fingers, wrapped around the wine glass, were trembling.

She stared at me, and the warning and comfort were gone. Now, it was like she didn't even know me anymore. And there was a flicker of fear in her eyes.

Someone finally snapped out of it, screaming and shattering the silence, "Stop standing around! Call security!"

Two security guards in uniforms came rushing in from the entrance, with rubber batons in hand, looking tense.

"Sir, please calm down. Come with us," one of them said.

I let go of his face, pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, and leisurely wiped the tip of my shoe, as if I'd stepped in something truly disgusting.

Then I flung the handkerchief right onto Jason's face.

"Don't touch him." The command rang out, icy and sharp.

It was Victoria. She walked over and stood firmly in front of me, blocking the security guards' path.

She didn't even glance at Jason lying on the floor; her piercing gaze was fixed solely on me.

"This has nothing to do with you. Get out," she said to the guards.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, but with the CEO's order hanging in the air, they didn't dare push back. After a moment's hesitation, they quietly slipped out.

Victoria took a deep breath, turned to the guests, and announced, "Tonight's party is over. Something unexpected happened. The company will pick up the tab for any losses."

She handled it quickly and ruthlessly like always, with no hesitation or fuss.

The guests bolted for the exits like prisoners finally set free, desperate to escape the scene.

Soon, the massive hall was deserted. The three of us left, standing amid the wreckage scattered across the floor.

Jason hauled himself off the floor, clutching his gut, his face pale and bruised, eyes full of hate and disbelief.

"Ms. Sterling... he..." Jason croaked.

"Shut up," Victoria snapped, her voice icy. "Go to the Finance Department tomorrow and get your final paycheck. I never want to see you in this company again."

Jason's expression froze on his face.

He probably thought Victoria would have his back and punish me, her so-called good-for-nothing husband.

But what he got instead was a pink slip.

"Why? Ms. Sterling, what did I do wrong? He was the one who kicked me! He's a psycho!" Jason shrieked, completely losing it.

"Because you talk too much," Victoria replied, her voice cold as ice. "Get out."

Jason wobbled, gave me one last hateful glare, and stumbled out.

Now, only Victoria and I were left in the room.

She turned around slowly, her gorgeous eyes now as cold and sharp as ice. "Let's go home."

She turned on her heel and marched out, not once looking back.

I followed, every sharp click of her heels ringing out in the empty hall. Each one landed like a blow straight to my heart.

*****

Down in the parking garage, we stopped beside her red Maserati.

She didn't slide into the driver's seat. Instead, she tossed me the keys. "You drive."

The whole drive was dead silent.

The air in the car was so tense that it was suffocating.

I could feel Victoria watching me through the rearview mirror. Her sharp gaze was like a scalpel, trying to slice me open inch by inch.

We pulled up to our villa on the edge of the city.

As soon as we walked in, she slammed her bag down on the console table in the entryway.

It was the first time in three years of marriage that she'd ever lost her cool.

She slipped off her heels and strode barefoot to the middle of the living room. Then, she whipped around and locked her gaze on me.

"Michael," Victoria said, her voice quivering, barely holding back her emotions, "who the hell are you?"