Chapter 4

Cordelia did not answer immediately. She slowly turned her head and dragged her gaze over to Alton. She looked at him from head to toe, her eyes filled with quiet, clinical judgment.

Alton felt the heat explode in his chest. His sanity snapped. He felt like this filthy child was laughing at him.

Alton shoved Antoinette out of the way. His heavy body lunged forward like a rabid dog breaking off its leash.

"Who do you think you are? !" Alton roared. Spit flew from his lips. "You do not make demands in my house!"

"Stop!" Glenwood shouted.

But the old man's body was too slow. His cane hit the floor a second too late.

Leland twitched, wanting to intervene, but Alton shot him a look so murderous that Leland's feet glued themselves to the marble floor.

Cordelia stood perfectly still. Her feet were planted firmly on the rug. She did not blink. Her brain rapidly calculated the distance between Alton's hand and her face. She prepared to shift her weight to minimize the impact.

Alton closed the gap. He raised his right hand high into the air. The force of his swing tore through the air, aiming straight for Cordelia's small, pale cheek.

Antoinette let out a short shriek and squeezed her eyes shut. Hallie's eyes widened with sick excitement.

The palm was two inches from Cordelia's skin.

CRASH.

The heavy oak front doors of the estate were thrown open with a deafening bang, slamming against the interior walls.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stormed into the foyer, bringing a gust of humid summer air and the sharp stench of alcohol.

The man moved with terrifying speed. He crossed the marble floor in three long strides. A large hand, wrapped around the wrist by a million-dollar Richard Mille watch, shot out like a steel trap.

The hand clamped down hard on Alton's wrist in mid-air.

The sheer kinetic force stopped Alton's swing dead. The sudden halt jerked Alton's shoulder forward, nearly pulling his arm out of its socket.

The wind from Alton's stopped hand blew Cordelia's bangs across her forehead. She slowly turned her head to look at her savior.

The man was wearing a wrinkled Armani dress shirt. His silk tie hung loosely around his neck. His blond hair was a messy, unstyled disaster.

It was Byron Fitzpatrick. The notorious black sheep of the family. The youngest son who spent his life in clubs. And the only person in Cordelia's past life who had ever shown her an ounce of mercy.

Byron let out a loud hiccup. He squinted his playboy eyes, but the look he gave his older brother was absolute ice.

Byron twisted his grip and shoved Alton's arm backward. Alton stumbled on the marble, his arms flailing as he barely caught his balance against the coffee table.

Byron let out a dry, mocking laugh. His voice was lazy, dripping with sarcasm. "Wow. The great heir to the Fitzpatrick empire. Starting your morning by beating a seven-year-old girl?"

Alton regained his footing. He recognized his brother, and his face twisted with pure hatred. "Back off, Byron! You worthless piece of trash. This is family business!"

Byron shrugged his broad shoulders. He stepped casually in front of Cordelia. His tall, muscular frame acted like a solid brick wall, completely hiding her from Alton's view.

"Family business?" Byron dug his finger into his ear, pretending to clean it. "All I see is a pathetic coward picking on a kid."

Alton's chest he heave. The veins in his forehead throbbed. "You do nothing but drain your trust fund! You are a disgrace!"

Byron did not flinch. He reached into his slacks, pulled out a peppermint, and popped it into his mouth. He crunched down on the hard candy. The loud cracking sound echoed in the room, a blatant display of disrespect.

Behind Byron's back, Cordelia stared at the wrinkled fabric of his shirt. She smelled the heavy mix of expensive cologne and cheap whiskey. Suddenly, her throat tightened. Her eyes burned.

In her past life, when she was thrown out onto the streets, it was this exact man who had secretly shoved a credit card into her pocket.

Glenwood watched his two sons. His patience evaporated. He lifted his cane and smashed it against a marble pillar.

The deafening crack silenced the room instantly.

"Shut your mouths!" Glenwood roared, his chest heaving with exertion. "Have you not embarrassed this family enough?"

The living room fell dead silent. Every pair of eyes snapped back to the old man, waiting for the final verdict.