Chapter 3: The Breaking of the Glass
The tension in the dining room finally snapped, breaking with a suddenness that paralyzed the air. When Evelyn pushed the folder away, the charming, diplomatic host vanished in a fraction of a second. Marcus’s eyes went completely dark, the veins in his neck bulging against the collar of his blue shirt.
In a sudden, explosive motion, Marcus surged to his feet, his chair screeching violently against the hardwood floor. His face contorted into a terrifying mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He didn't yell; the anger had bypassed words entirely. With a vicious, sweeping motion of his arm, he grabbed a heavy glass object from the table and brought it down with terrifying, unrestrained force.
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CRASH.
The deafening sound of shattering glass echoed like a gunshot through the elegant dining room. Evelyn’s reaction was entirely instinctive, born of years of walking on eggshells. She flinched violently, her shoulders hiking up to her ears as she ducked her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and brought both hands up, pressing them tightly against the sides of her head to shield her face and ears from the flying debris and the sheer volume of the impact. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. In the agonizing seconds that followed, she waited for someone—anyone—at that table to intervene, to tell Marcus to stop, to ask if she was alright.
