Under Her Rule

CHAPTER 4: THE BROKEN CROWN

Alex’s POV)

The sound of the rain outside seemed to echo the sound of our family collapsing. The moment we stepped into the mansion, I wasn’t greeted by the usual silence and the scent of expensive candles. Now, the mansion smelled of whiskey and danger.

I ran toward the library the moment I heard the sound of things shattering one after another. My heart was racing. When I reached the door, I almost got hit by a flying crystal glass.

"Mom! Stop it!" I screamed, but it was like she couldn't hear anything.

My mother, Joanne De Salva, was a shadow of her former self. Her hair, which was always perfectly coiffed, was disheveled. Her designer suit was stained with whiskey. In her hand was a bottle of expensive Scotch, half-empty. Her favorite vases, Daddy’s books, and our family photos—the symbols of our "perfect" life—were scattered in pieces across the floor.

"That b***h!" Mommy screamed. Her voice was hoarse, raw with pain and alcohol. "The nerve of her! She has the audacity to step into my home! My sanctuary!"

"Mommy, please, calm down..." I stepped closer to hug her, but she pushed me away gently.

"You don’t understand, Alex! She was there, standing beside your father like she’s the one who built this empire! Did you see how my friends looked at me? They were pitying me! Pitying the Queen because of a stray orphan from Switzerland!"

She smashed another bottle. Our maids were just standing on the side, trembling, not knowing how to approach her. Every shatter felt like a stab in my chest. I hated this. I hated seeing the woman I looked up to being reduced to this—a broken woman screaming in the middle of a pile of glass.

Suddenly, the large library doors swung open. My father, Fred De Salva, walked in. His face was a mask of cold fury.

"Joanne, enough! Stop this madness!" Daddy’s voice thundered. "This is embarrassing! Louise is here! My staff is here! The maids can hear you! Have you no shame?!"

Mommy laughed—a bitter, hollow sound that echoed through the room. She pointed the neck of the broken bottle at Dad. "Shame? f**k you, Fred! You’re the one who should be ashamed! You brought your mistress into my home! You brought that woman here, into my face, into our daughter’s life!"

"She is my executive assistant, Joanne! Fix your damn self!" Dad growled. He stepped forward and violently loosened his tie, his knuckles white with tension. "Everyone, get out! Now!"

One of the maids pulled me out, but before the door closed, I heard Mommy’s final scream, calling Dad a traitor.

My blood was literally boiling as I walked away from the library. My fists were clenched so hard my nails were digging into my palms. I needed someone to pay for this. I needed to confront the source of this rot.

I knew where she was. She wouldn't be with the staff. She would be in the one place she feels she belongs—Daddy’s study.

I slammed the study door open. I expected to see her acting like a victim. I expected her to be crying, or pretending to be scared of Mommy’s noise. I expected "Pabebe" Louise—the version the people at the foundation see.

But what I saw was completely different.

Louise was standing by the massive floor-to-ceiling glass window, her back turned to me. The moonlight was hitting her from outside, making her black power suit look like armor. She was perfectly still, her arms crossed over her chest. No tears. No trembling. Just a cold, silent presence that filled the entire room.

"Why are you still here?" I spat, my voice shaking with pure, unadulterated hatred.

Slowly, she turned around. Her posture didn't break. Her face was a mask of calm indifference. No trace of guilt. No trace of fear.

"I have work to finish, Alexandra," she said in that smooth, velvet voice that I had grown to loathe.

"Work? Is that what you call this? Destroying my mother’s sanity? Breaking our home?" I stepped closer, my heels clicking sharply on the hardwood floor. "You’re a parasite, Louise. Just because you got a degree in Switzerland doesn't mean you're one of us. You're still just that same orphan who has nothing."

Louise let out a short, mocking breath—almost like a laugh, but colder. She stepped away from the window and moved towards me.

"One of you?" she repeated, circling me like a predator. "Why would I want to be one of you? A family built on lies and glass? Look at your mother, Alex. She spent her life being a 'Queen,' and now she’s on the floor surrounded by broken glass. Is that what you want me to envy?"

"Don't you dare talk about her like that!"

"I earned this spot, Alexandra," Louise whispered, leaning in closer. Her perfume filled my senses—sharp, floral, and intimidating. "I worked for every cent, every promotion, and every look your father gives me. Unlike you, who was just born with a silver spoon."

"To be what? The mistress of my father?" I mocked, my face inches away from hers. I didn't flinch. I wanted her to see the fire in my eyes. "Is that the 'spot' you worked so hard for? To be the woman who sleeps with a married man for power?"

She leaned in even closer. She didn't blink. She didn't look away. In fact, she looked at me with a smirk that felt like a slap.

"Mistress?" she whispered, the word sounding like a tease. "It sounds like a word for someone who has power. Someone who can replace the queen. Is that what scares you, Alex? That I can do everything your mother can’t?"

Everything went dark. All my anger since the gala, all my annoyance at the foundation, and the pain I saw in Mom’s eyes—it all surged into my palm.

SLAP!

A sharp slap landed on Louise’s cheek. The impact was so strong her head turned, and strands of her blonde hair fell across her face. The sound of the slap echoed through the quiet study.

I was panting, my hand trembling, but I just stared at her. I expected her to scream. I expected her to hit back.

"ALEXANDRA!"

Daddy’s voice from the doorway was like thunder. I froze. When I turned, there he was, his eyes full of rage and disbelief.

"What have you done?!" Daddy screamed, quickly rushing over to us. He didn't even look at me; the first thing he did was grab Louise’s shoulder. "Louise, are you hurt?"

I looked at Louise. The defiant, cold woman from seconds ago had vanished. She lowered her head, her hand covering her reddened cheek. Her eyes were suddenly watery, and her shoulders slumped. She looked like a fragile victim.

"Fred, it's okay... she’s just emotional because of Joanne," Louise said in a small, broken voice.

"Emotional?! She slapped you in my own home!" Dad turned to me, and for the first time, I saw real disappointment in his eyes. "Apologize. Now."

"I will never apologize to her, Dad! Never!"