Just moments earlier, Lily had excitedly run into the ballroom to present her handmade gift to Eleanor. Instead of embracing her granddaughter, Eleanor had slapped the clay heart out of the child’s hands, sending it shattering across the marble floor, before reprimanding Lily for ruining the aesthetic of a high-society event with "trash."

Eleanor took a step forward, pointing a manicured, trembling finger toward the grand entrance. Her voice pierced the classical quartet playing softly in the background with chilling, commanding cruelty.

"Take that cheap garbage out of my house," Eleanor hissed, her eyes locking onto Jack with pure venom. "You and your brat have humiliated this family for the last time. This is a private reception for people of consequence, not a charity ward for mechanics and their defective offspring."

The ballroom fell into a suffocating silence. Vanessa covered her mouth, looking torn between embarrassment and the ingrained fear of her mother, while Bryce smirked, swirling his champagne flute.

Jack did not step back. He did not break his gaze with Eleanor. He tightened his grip around Lily, wrapping his large, calloused hand over hers, holding the broken clay heart against his own chest. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening like steel cables. When he spoke, his voice wasn't a shout—it was a low, volcanic rumble that shook the room with terrifying emotional weight.

Chapter 2: The Shadow of Vanguard Logistics

The drive back to the city was silent, save for the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers fighting off a sudden November downpour and Lily’s soft, exhausted sniffles from the backseat. Jack kept one hand on the steering wheel of his matte-black SUV and reached back with the other, resting his fingers gently on Lily’s sneaker.