Victor interrupted before I could continue, his voice louder than necessary so the entire room turned toward him. “Why do you not tell them who really supported you?”
I blinked in confusion and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Tell them,” he repeated with that same polite smile. “Tell them that you would not be anything without me.”
The atmosphere shifted immediately, as if the air had become heavier. I attempted to keep my tone light because I hoped the moment would pass if I treated it like a joke. “I do not think promotions work that way.”
Victor’s chair scraped loudly against the floor when he stood up. His smile remained in place, but his eyes sharpened in a way that revealed exactly what he wanted. He wanted control, right there in front of my coworkers.
I set my glass down carefully and said quietly, “Victor, not now.”
His hand moved so quickly that my brain could not process it in time. The punch struck my cheekbone with brutal force, and the impact exploded in my ear like thunder. It was not dramatic the way punches looked in movies. It was sudden, heavy, and painfully real.
I stumbled forward, my palms crashing against the table while forks and glasses clattered loudly. Someone gasped behind me, but Victor had already stepped closer.
He grabbed the back of my head and forced it downward with violent pressure, pushing my face toward the tablecloth as if he wanted to demonstrate ownership. My forehead struck the edge of a plate, and bright flashes filled my vision.
“Stop,” I managed to choke.
The first person who stood up was Victor’s mother, Patricia Langford, yet she did not rise to help me. Instead she spoke calmly, almost patiently, as though addressing a misbehaving animal. “She needs to learn.”
Victor’s father, Harold Langford, nodded with solemn approval. “Only God can save you, Julia.”
Danielle continued filming while whispering with a mocking smile, “This is what happens when you become too important for your own home.”
My coworkers remained frozen in place, forming a stunned half circle around the table. The restaurant continued buzzing with normal conversation and clinking glasses, but our corner felt strangely sealed off, as though everyone nearby had silently decided this situation belonged to someone else.