CHAPTER 4: Get Away From My Son

Charles did not hurry.
Men like him rarely needed to.
He crossed the threshold with controlled fury in every step, the security guards moving behind him with the quiet discipline of people trained to end scenes without raising their voices.
The main doors remained open behind them for one moment, framing the hallway and the sudden arrival of consequences.
Caleb’s expression changed before Charles spoke.
Recognition moved across his face first.
Then calculation.
Then fear.
Charles looked at the damaged cake, the frosting on Noah’s face, the smear across his son’s black vest, and the groom still standing too close.
His voice was low, but it carried through the ballroom.
“Get away from my son.”
The room seemed to tilt around those words.
Ava stared at Noah.
Caleb turned pale.
One of the bridesmaids made a tiny motion as if to speak, then closed her mouth again.
Noah slowly wiped frosting from his cheek with the back of his hand.
He did not look surprised that his father had come.
He looked tired that it had become necessary.
A security guard stepped beside the cake table, careful not to touch the frosting or the collapsed tiers.
The evidence stayed exactly where Caleb had put it.