The Hostess Ordered the Maid to Remove an Empty Chair — Until the Boss Saw the Deep Red Mark on Her Neck

"For heaven's sake, must you embarrass me?!" Victoria shrieked from across the table, completely dropping her elegant facade. "You clumsy, incompetent rat! Pick it up and get it out of my sight!"

Madison dropped to her knees on the marble floor, sobbing quietly as she scrambled to lift the heavy wooden chair. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely grip the polished legs.

Suddenly, a heavy, leather shoe stepped right next to her hands.

"Leave it."

The voice was a deep, commanding rumble that instantly froze the entire dining room.

It was Mr. Moretti.

He had just walked into the dining room from his private study. He was a heavily muscular man in his late thirties, his dark hair slicked back perfectly. He wore a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing the edges of dark, intricate tattoos creeping up his neck. He was the most feared and powerful real estate developer in the city, and a man who rarely raised his voice.

He didn't have to.

Mr. Moretti crouched down right beside Madison, completely ignoring the stunned, wealthy guests watching him. He reached out and effortlessly lifted the heavy wooden chair with one hand, setting it right back in its place at the table.

As he turned his head, his sharp, dark eyes locked onto Madison.

Because Madison had dropped her hand from her neck to help lift the chair, her stiff white collar had shifted open just a fraction of an inch.

Mr. Moretti completely stopped moving.

Just beneath her collarbone, peeking out from the fabric, was an angry, bright red mark. It was the unmistakable, terrifying shape of a human handprint deeply bruised into her pale skin. Someone had violently grabbed her by the throat.

The cold, detached aura of the billionaire completely vanished, replaced by an intense, overwhelming concern.

"Who hurt your neck?" Mr. Moretti asked softly, his voice thick with protective anger.