Chapter 3 - The Spark of Violence
The sequence of events that followed happened with the terrifying speed of a car crash.
As Lenora reached for her clutch, Sterling stepped forward. Without a second thought, without a shred of hesitation, he drew his leg back and kicked her. The heavy toe of his polished dress shoe caught Lenora hard in the ribs.
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the foyer. Lenora let out a sharp, breathless cry and went sprawling across the slick marble floor. She slid several feet, her evening gown tangling around her legs, her head snapping back with a sickening jolt. She lay there, dazed and whimpering, a broken bird on the cold stone.
Aunt Coraline dropped her glass. It shattered, the sound ringing out like a gunshot in the sudden, dead silence of the room.
Kalista didn't think. The years of martial arts training, the ingrained instinct to protect, took over her body. She closed the distance in three massive, sprinting strides.
"Hey!" Kalista screamed.
Sterling had just enough time to pivot toward the sound of her voice. He expected a reprimand. He expected tears. He did not expect Kalista to plant her left foot, twist her hips, and launch a devastating, perfectly executed roundhouse kick directly at his head.
The heel of Kalista's strappy stiletto caught Sterling square in the jaw. The impact was a brutal, bone-jarring thud.
Sterling’s eyes rolled back in his head. His arms flailed as the kinetic force lifted him slightly off his feet. He crashed backward onto the marble, his head bouncing once against the floor.
Thatcher, standing just a few steps behind, froze. His mouth opened in absolute shock, his hands hovering uselessly in the air.
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Sterling groaned, clutching his bloody jaw, his face twisted in disbelief and absolute fury. He propped himself up on one elbow, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the pristine floor.
"How dare you kick me!" Sterling bellowed, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "You filthy little bitch, I'll kill you!"
