Dahlia's POV
The grand ballroom fell into a suffocating silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Every crystal chandelier above us seemed to dim as the weight of what had just happened settled over the crowd.
Nobody could have predicted that Alistair would strike his own flesh and blood. The man who had built his reputation on genteel manners and quiet dignity had just shattered that image with a single, resounding slap.
Flora's face crumpled as she stared at her husband in complete shock. "Alistair, how could you hit your own son?" Her voice cracked with disbelief, tears threatening to spill from her wide eyes.
"Enough," Alistair's voice cut through the air like a blade. His usually warm demeanor had transformed into something cold and commanding. "Take Ivana home if she's unwell. Your coddling has already done enough damage."
