Chapter 3
The heir's cries were muffled by the thick steel, but in the ballroom, the real fear began. Hundreds of distinguished guests—who just minutes before had treated my assault as mere entertainment—were now trembling.
My father didn't rush to deal with the man. He stepped onto the stage, where the orchestra had played gentle music, and took the microphone. A crackling sound filled the suffocating atmosphere.
"Ladies and gentlemen," my father's voice rang out, calm but carrying the weight of a verdict. "Today is a charity event. But it seems your charity has been left at the door."
He gestured to the security team. A large screen behind him suddenly lit up, displaying the entire security camera footage from the previous 15 minutes: the man attacking me, and, more importantly, the dozens of guests watching, laughing, and turning their backs to leave.
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"Every action has its price," my father continued. "The entire fortune and reputation of everyone in this room, those who chose silence over justice, will be 're-evaluated' by us within the next 24 hours. Those who stand by while women are abused do not deserve to be among the leaders of this society."
The room crumbled. Arrogant businessmen dropped their glasses, refined ladies knelt in supplication. They realized that, in my father and my world, they were no longer powerful figures; they were merely "accomplices" about to be eliminated from the game.
