PART 2: THE SNAKESPIT
Elena gasped, her eyes bulging as Sebastian's fingers tightened around her windpipe.
“Seb… astian…” she choked out, her manicured nails clawing at his wrists.
Downstairs, the clinking of champagne glasses and the low hum of jazz music continued, oblivious to the war upstairs.
Sebastian leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.
“If you make a single sound, I will throw you out of that window,” he whispered, his voice dangerously calm.
He let her go. Elena collapsed to the floor, coughing and rubbing her neck.
She looked up, her mask of perfection completely slipping, replaced by something ugly and defensive.
“You don't understand,” Elena hissed, glancing at Chloe, who was shaking in the corner. “You don't know what it takes to keep this family afloat.”
“She is eight years old, Elena!” Sebastian roared in a muted whisper, every muscle in his body trembling.
“Arthur controls everything! Our money, your firm, this house!” Elena stood up, smoothing her dress with terrifying composure. “He demands perfection. He demands submission. It’s a Sterling family tradition. I survived it. She will too.”
Sebastian felt a wave of nausea hit him.
This wasn’t just a sudden act of cruelty. This was a generational cycle of horror.
And his wife was the enforcer.
“We are leaving. Now,” Sebastian said, grabbing Chloe’s coat and her iPad.
“You won't make it to the driveway,” Elena said, a cold, mocking smile creeping onto her lips. “Look out the window, Sebastian.”
Sebastian parted the heavy velvet curtains.
Down in the driveway, two black SUVs were parked, blocking his car.
Arthur’s private security detail—armed men who answered only to the patriarch—were standing guard.
The Sterling estate was a fortress. And they were trapped inside.
“Arthur knows Chloe wanted to talk to you,” Elena said, her voice dripping with venomous triumph. “He sent me up to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid. Now, put her in the silk dress, and let’s go downstairs. We have a performance to catch.”
Sebastian looked at his daughter. Chloe was looking back at him, her eyes begging him to be the hero she thought he was.
Sebastian closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to Elena.
“Okay,” he said softly. “You win. Let’s get her ready.”
Elena smiled, satisfied. “Good boy, Seb.”
She turned her back to walk out of the room.
The moment her head was turned, Sebastian grabbed the heavy glass Chopin trophy from Chloe’s desk.
He swung it with everything he had.
The glass shattered against the back of Elena’s head.
She crumpled to the floor, unconscious, blood beginning to pool into her perfect blonde hair.
Chloe gasped, covering her mouth.
May you like
Sebastian dropped the broken trophy, his hands covered in sweat.
“Put your shoes on, Chloe,” he said, his voice dead and cold. “We’re going to war.”
