Chapter 3 - The Public Execution
I smiled down at the man who had treated my heart like a casino chip.
"Eight months ago, my father was shot and nearly died," I continued, the ballroom so silent you could hear a pin drop. "The medical bills would have bankrupted my family. But Nico stepped in. He told me he took care of everything. He told me I didn't owe him anything. He became my savior."
A collective murmur of approval rippled through the wealthy crowd. Nico offered a humble, practiced wave of his hand.
"But I recently learned a very important lesson about the Casaro family," I said, my smile dropping completely, replaced by a freezing, lethal glare. "I learned that in this house, credit belongs only to the man who actually signs the checks."
The confusion in the room was palpable. Nico’s hand slowly lowered.
"Nico didn't pay a single dime of my father's hospital bills," I announced, my voice slicing through the heavy air. "He didn't arrange the specialists. He didn't save my home. He lied to my face for eight months, stealing the credit from the man who actually saved my family: his father, Leo Casaro."
Gasps erupted from the crowd. The high-society guests began whispering frantically, their eyes darting between me on the stage, Nico in the front, and Leo in the shadows.
Nico’s face went completely white. "Myra, what the hell are you doing? Get down from there!" he hissed, taking a step toward the stage.
"I'm not finished!" I commanded, pointing a fierce finger at him that stopped him dead in his tracks. "Because stealing your father's honor wasn't enough, was it, Nico? You had to monetize my gratitude. You had to make a game out of a grieving daughter."
I reached into the small clutch purse I had retrieved from the hallway and pulled out a stack of crisp, hundred-dollar bills. I had asked Leo for a small favor before I left his office, and he had happily obliged.
"Ten thousand dollars," I stated loudly, holding the cash up for the entire ballroom to see. "That was the bet Nico placed with his friends the night my father was bleeding out in a hospital bed. Ten thousand dollars to see if he could manipulate the 'grateful little virgin' into his bed before Christmas."
Pandemonium broke out. Women covered their mouths in shock; men stared at Nico with blatant disgust. Even in a room full of criminals and mobsters, there was a code of honor. Exploiting a civilian whose father had taken a bullet for the Don was a cardinal sin.
"She's lying!" Nico shouted, panic completely shredding his suave persona. He looked around wildly. "She's crazy! She misunderstood!"
"Did she?"
The booming, terrifying voice of Leo Casaro cut through the chaos like a scythe. The crowd instantly parted, creating a wide, terrified path as the Don of the family walked slowly toward his son.
Chloe, realizing the sheer magnitude of the disaster, tried to subtly back away into the crowd.
"Not so fast, Chloe," I called out over the microphone, freezing my former best friend in her tracks. "Don't be shy now. You helped him pick out this red dress, didn't you? You stood outside his bedroom door tonight, laughing about the price tag on my body. Fourteen years of friendship, and you sold me out to be a spectator in a frat-boy bet."
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Chloe burst into tears, shaking her head as the judgmental glares of the crowd turned on her. "Myra, please! I didn't mean to! I just wanted to fit in with them!"
"Then you can leave with them," I said, stepping down from the stage and walking directly toward the epicenter of the destruction.
