Chapter 2 - The Panic
"Hang up the phone," Jackson demanded, the aggressive flush of wine draining from his face, leaving him pale and suddenly terrified.
I didn't blink. I kept the phone pressed to my bleeding ear. "Yes, officer. Hidden Hills drive. The suspect is still in the room. I am bleeding from the head."
"Are you insane?" Genesis shrieked, finally dropping the carving knife. Her perfect, poised facade shattered into absolute panic. She lunged toward me, reaching for my phone. "This is a private family matter! We don't involve the authorities in a simple misunderstanding!"
"Don't touch me," I warned, my voice dropping to a register so cold it froze her halfway across the dining room.
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my purse.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The cousins, the aunts, the brother who had all sat silently while they carved up my assets—they were suddenly scrambling, whispering frantically, staring at the blood dripping from my jaw onto the expensive hardwood floor.
"Baby, please," Jackson stammered, his bravado entirely evaporating. He took a step toward me, his hands raised in a pathetic gesture of surrender. "It slipped. I was just angry. You know how stressed I've been with the new startup. I didn't mean to hit you."
"You aimed for my head, Jackson," I said softly.
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"We'll pay for the dry cleaning," his father chimed in weakly, as if a stained dress was the issue at hand. "We'll get you some ice. Just call them back and say it was an accident."
"I’m not calling anyone back," I replied, pressing a napkin to my temple. "And you should all probably get your stories straight. Because they’re going to ask why twenty people watched a man assault his wife and did absolutely nothing."
