Chapter 136 Broken Glass
Olivia: POV
That scream wasn't just fear—it was pure terror. Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and dialed 911, my fingers moving on autopilot as I rushed toward Charlotte's private room.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"There's an assault in progress at Lorenzo's Restaurant, private dining room on the east side," I said quickly, my voice low but urgent. "A woman is being attacked by multiple men. Please hurry."
I didn't wait for a response. Pushing the door fully open, I took in the horrifying scene before me. The elegant dining table was in chaos—plates shattered on the floor, wine spilled like blood across the white tablecloth.
Charlotte was pinned against the table by two men in expensive suits, her dress torn at the shoulder. A third man, his back to me, was fumbling with his belt.
My stomach lurched. This wasn't a misunderstanding. This was assault, happening right in front of me.
"Get the fuck off her!" I shouted, making all three men turn.
Charlotte's eyes found mine, wide with terror and relief. "Olivia!" she gasped, seizing the momentary distraction to bite one of her attackers' hands.
"Bitch!" he snarled, slapping her hard across the face.
Something cold and deadly settled in my chest. "Police are on their way," I announced, holding up my phone. "I suggest you step away from her right now."
The tallest of the three men—handsome in that generic Wall Street way, with slicked-back hair and a smug expression—straightened his tie and approached me.
"Well, well. If it isn't Olivia Parker," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "This is a private party. I'm sure you meant well, but you're interrupting something between me and my fiancée."
"Bullshit!" Charlotte screamed, struggling against the men still restraining her. "I am NOT your fiancée, Sean! Let me GO!"
I kept my phone visible, the call to 911 still connected. "I don't care who you claim to be. Three men holding down a screaming woman doesn't look like a 'private party' to me."
Sean's eyes narrowed. "You should be careful about making accusations you can't back up, Mrs. Westwood. Your husband's company has several contracts with Thompson Investments, doesn't it?"
The threat was obvious, but I'd dealt with enough entitled assholes in my life to know not to show fear. "Are you seriously threatening me while committing a crime? Bold strategy."
One of the other men released Charlotte and started toward me. I braced myself, but before he could reach me, sirens wailed outside. The cavalry had arrived.
"Shit," the third man muttered. "Sean, we need to—"
"Shut up," Sean hissed. "Nobody panic. This is just a misunderstanding."
I pushed past them and went straight to Charlotte, who was trembling violently. Her mascara had run down her cheeks, and her lip was bleeding where she'd been hit. I shrugged off my blazer and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.
She nodded, clutching my jacket around herself. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Thank you for coming in."
Two police officers appeared in the doorway, hands on their holsters. "What's going on here?" the female officer demanded.
Sean immediately transformed, his predatory demeanor melting into charm. "Officers, thank you for coming, but there's been a misunderstanding. My fiancée and I were having a... private moment with friends when this woman barged in and started making accusations."
Charlotte shook her head frantically. "He's lying! They were attacking me! I'm not his fiancée—I barely know him!"
The male officer looked between them, clearly trying to assess the situation. "Ma'am, are you injured?"
Before Charlotte could answer, the door burst open again. A well-dressed older couple rushed in, the woman in pearls and a designer dress, the man in a tailored suit that screamed old money.
"Charlotte!" the woman cried. "What have you done now?"
Charlotte's face drained of color. "Dad? What are you doing here?"
Sean smiled triumphantly. "I called them when you started acting out, darling. I was worried about you."
The older man—Charlotte's father, apparently—surveyed the room with cold eyes before turning to his daughter. Without warning, he slapped her hard across the face, sending her staggering backward.
"You worthless girl!" he spat. "Look at the scene you've created!"
I was so shocked I couldn't move. Even the police officers seemed stunned into momentary inaction.
Charlotte's stepmother rushed forward, her face twisted with rage. "Charlotte, you've humiliated us all! Again!" She raised her hand to strike Charlotte as well.
I stepped between them. "Stop it! She's the victim here!"
The woman glared at me. "And who are you to interfere in family matters?"
"I'm someone who doesn't think assault is a 'family matter,'" I shot back.
Charlotte's father turned to the officers. "My daughter has... episodes. She creates these dramatic scenarios for attention. I apologize for wasting your time."
The female officer frowned. "Sir, we still need to take statements from everyone."
While they spoke, Charlotte's stepmother—Susan, I heard someone call her—pulled Charlotte aside. "Listen to me," she hissed, loud enough that I could hear. "Sean is willing to forgive this little outburst. You will apologize to him right now and thank him for his understanding."
Something snapped in Charlotte's eyes. With a swift movement, she grabbed a wine bottle from the table and smashed it against the edge, creating a jagged weapon.
"Forgive ME?" she screamed. "FORGIVE ME?"
Before anyone could react, she lunged at Susan, slashing her across the cheek with the broken bottle.
Blood splattered across Susan's pearl necklace as she shrieked in pain. Charlotte didn't stop there—she dropped the bottle and grabbed Susan by her perfectly coiffed hair, slapping her repeatedly.
"You homewrecking whore!" Charlotte screamed, tears streaming down her face. "You slept your way to the top and pushed my mother out! You think I don't know? You think I don't KNOW what you did to her?"
The officers rushed forward, pulling Charlotte away as she continued to thrash and scream. "You killed her! You and him—you killed my mother!"
Charlotte's father rushed to Susan's side, his face contorted with rage. "You ungrateful bitch! After everything we've done for you!"
"Done for me?" Charlotte laughed, a hollow, broken sound that sent chills down my spine. "You married my mother for her family's money, cheated on her with this gold-digging slut, and drove her to suicide! And now you're trying to sell me to Sean for a business merger? I'd rather die!"
The room fell silent except for Susan's whimpering and Charlotte's ragged breathing.
"She's clearly unstable," Sean said smoothly to the officers. "As I said, this is a family matter. Charlotte and I are engaged—her parents arranged it. We were just having some... intimate time before the wedding."
The female officer looked skeptical. "Three men having 'intimate time' with one woman who was screaming for help?"