Reborn Heiress: Taming The Ruthless Tycoon

Katelyn let out a sharp cry as her hip slammed into the polished marble floor. She lay sprawled in front of Brion’s custom-made oxfords, her dress tangled around her legs like a snared animal. The ballroom was dead silent, save for the frantic, mechanical clicking of camera shutters. Brion stared down at the woman on the floor. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes looked at her the way one might look at a diseased rat. Katelyn looked up, tears streaming down her face, mascara streaking black tracks through her foundation. She reached out a trembling hand, trying to grab the hem of Brion’s trousers to pull herself up. Brion took a deliberate half-step backward. The movement was small, but it radiated an overwhelming aura of disgust and absolute dominance. “Get out.” Brion’s voice was low, smooth, terrifyingly calm. Alfonso immediately stepped between his boss and the woman on the floor, blocking Katelyn’s path. Gemma walked down the final steps. Her posture was flawless. She didn’t spare Katelyn a single glance. She walked straight up to Brion and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Brion’s eyes narrowed slightly, bracing for her to run, bracing for the inevitable rejection he had endured a thousand times before. Instead, Gemma lifted her hand and slid it through the crook of his arm, pressing her side against his solid chest. Brion’s entire body went rigid. The muscles in his arm turned to stone. For a split second, he stopped breathing. Then his large hand clamped down over her wrist, pinning her arm to his side with a bruising, desperate force. Gemma ignored the pain. She turned to face the wall of flashing cameras and offered a bright, perfectly composed smile. “My maid of honor was just a little too excited for the champagne toast,” Gemma announced, her voice carrying clearly across the room. “She missed a step.” A flawless execution. She reduced Katelyn’s malicious sabotage to a clumsy, embarrassing drunken mistake. Katelyn slumped against the floor, lips trembling uncontrollably, but not a single coherent word escaped her throat. She stared up at Gemma clinging to Brion, her eyes swimming with a toxic mix of venom and absolute terror. All that came out was a pathetic, meaningless whimper. She looked exactly like a stray dog with a broken spine. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd at the bizarre, pathetic display. Reporters surged forward, shoving microphones over the velvet ropes, eager to capture the bridesmaid’s humiliating breakdown. Brion moved instantly. He shifted his broad shoulders, physically blocking Gemma from the cameras, shielding her entirely with his own body. He turned his head and glared at the media pit. The sheer, suffocating menace in his eyes made the front row of reporters physically step back. “If a single picture of this pathetic display makes it to print,” Brion said, his voice echoing in the silent room, “your parent companies will be delisted from the exchange by noon tomorrow.” No one breathed. No one doubted him. Brion looked at the head of security. “Throw her on the street.” Two massive guards grabbed Katelyn by the armpits and hauled her off the ground. She kicked and screamed, her one remaining shoe abandoned on the marble. Gemma leaned her head against Brion’s shoulder, watching with cold satisfaction as the heavy oak doors slammed shut, cutting off Katelyn’s wails. The silence in the room was deafening. Brion looked down at Gemma. His grip on her wrist tightened further. “What game are you playing?” he whispered, his voice vibrating with dangerous suspicion.