The sound of Brandon's booming shout hung heavy in the air, freezing every person in the grand hallway completely still. Margarethe blinked in surprise, her fake panicked expression faltering for a brief second before she tried to adjust her golden gown again. She had expected her stepson to take her side, just as he had done during previous family disputes when money and reputation were on the line. She opened her mouth to speak again, ready to spin another false narrative about Hannah’s background, but Brandon did not give her the chance. In a single fast, powerful motion driven by pure rage and protective instinct, Brandon turned around and slapped Margarethe forcefully across the face. The sharp impact rang out loudly through the marble space, a harsh crack that cut through the silence like a gunshot.
Margarethe stumbled backward, her golden sequin dress catching the light as she clutched her red, stinging cheek with both hands. Her eyes were wide with total shock, her mouth open in absolute disbelief. She had spent her entire life hiding behind her family name, her prenuptial protections, and her vast wealth, never once facing physical or verbal consequences for her actions. She gasped for air, staring at Brandon as if he had suddenly become a total stranger.
"You... you dared to raise a hand against me?" Margarethe whispered, her voice trembling with rising panic and humiliation. "I am your father's wife! I run the family estate! You will lose your inheritance for this! I will bring every lawyer in this city to take your company away from you!"
Brandon did not even bother to reply to her legal threats or her frantic screams about money. He completely turned his back on her, dropping down onto his knees directly beside Hannah on the cold, liquid-stained marble floor. The sharp fabric of his grey suit soaked up the red spill, but he did not care about the clothes or the mess. He gently wrapped his strong arms around Hannah's trembling shoulders, holding her head and face protectively close to his chest to comfort her. He pulled his silk pocket square from his jacket and began tenderly wiping the sticky red liquid away from her cheeks and eyes, his touch soft and remarkably gentle compared to the rage he had shown a second before.
"Don't worry, you're safe now," Brandon said softly, his voice full of protective warmth as he looked deep into her tear-filled eyes. "I am right here with you, Hannah. No one is ever going to hurt you or humiliate you in this house again."
Hannah leaned into his warm embrace, weeping tears of intense physical pain and overwhelming emotional relief as he held her tightly. The cold marble floor no longer felt quite as terrifying with Brandon standing between her and his stepmother. She gripped his dark suit jacket tightly with her small hands, burying her face into his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath.
"She poured it on me, Brandon," Hannah sobbed out, her chest heaving as the words tumbled out of her mouth. "She told me I was nothing. She said I was trying to steal your family's money and that you would never choose me over her."
"I know, sweetie. I know," Brandon replied, kissing the top of her stained hair without a second of hesitation. "I saw enough to know the truth. She has been trying to control this family for far too long, but it ends tonight. You are worth more than this entire house, and I am not going to let her treat you like trash."
Margarethe stood a few feet away, her breathing fast and shallow as she held her burning cheek. She watched her stepson comfort a woman she considered completely beneath them, her chest swelling with dark bitterness. She adjusted her dress, trying to regain some small bit of dignity, but her hands were shaking too badly to keep still. She knew that Brandon controlled the main trust fund now, and if he chose to cut her off, her lavish lifestyle would come crashing down fast. Yet, she still believed her lies could save her if she pushed hard enough.