FROM PRISON TRASH TO GOD OF WAR

Chapter 5: The Coffin Opens

Alexander walked toward the coffin with leisurely, almost casual steps. The crowd pressed backward, creating a wide circle around him. He raised his boot and kicked the lid.

The coffin exploded open.

The screaming started immediately.

Women shrieked, champagne glasses shattered as they hit the floor. Men stumbled backward, some retching. Because inside the coffin, illuminated by the glittering chandelier light, lay Derek Morrison's phone—still ringing—clutched in the stiff, dead fingers of a corpse.

It was Derek’s body, the man's face frozen in a rictus of terror, eyes wide and unseeing. His neck bent at an unnatural angle.

Victoria's scream rose above all others. "MURDER! Oh God, it's MURDER!"

"Call the police!" someone shouted.

"He killed someone!"

"There's a dead body!"

Victoria pointed at Alexander with a shaking hand, her voice climbing to a hysterical pitch. "You MURDERER! You brought a corpse to our banquet! You've killed someone and you'll—you'll be EXECUTED for this! Death penalty! DEATH PENALTY!"

Alexander's cold gaze swept across the panicking crowd. "The law. How interesting that you suddenly remember the law exists."

"Of course we remember the law!" Victoria shrieked. "Because we're not ANIMALS like you! We don't go around killing people!"

"Don't you?" Alexander's voice cut through the chaos like a scalpel. "Tell me, Uncle Robert, aunt Victoria. When you killed my mother, did you remember the law then?"

The screaming faltered. The crowd fell into confused silence.

Robert's face cycled through emotions—confusion, fear, and finally desperate rage. "What are you talking about? Your mother killed herself because of you!"

"You're insane. Everyone can see you're insane! Robert, call the police! Now!" Victoria's mask of horror slipped for just a fraction of a second, revealing something cold and calculating beneath.

"Yes!" Robert seized on the suggestion. "Everyone here is a witness! You've committed murder in front of the entire city's elite! You'll never—"

"Evidence," Alexander interrupted calmly. "Where's your evidence?"

Robert blinked, thrown off balance. "Evidence? The BODY is right there! The coffin! Everything!"

"Exactly." Alexander's smile was terrible. "Evidence. Proof. The foundations of law and justice." He took a step closer to Robert. "So tell me, Uncle. When you framed me five years ago, where was your evidence? When you accused me of attempted rape, where was your proof?"

The ballroom had gone deathly silent. Even Victoria seemed frozen, her mouth half-open.

"LIES!" Robert's face contorted with fury, veins bulging at his temples. "Everything you've said is LIES! These people—" he gestured wildly at the crowd, "—they all know the truth! They know what kind of degenerate you are!"

He charged forward, his expensive shoes slapping against marble as he rushed at Alexander with murder in his eyes. "I'll kill you myself! Right here! Right now! You should have DIED in prison like we planned!"

The confession hung in the air for half a second.

Then Robert was airborne.

Marcus Bennett's boot caught him squarely in the stomach with a perfectly executed flying kick. The impact made a sound like a bat hitting a watermelon.

Robert's body lifted completely off the ground. He flew backward through the air, arms and legs flailing uselessly, before crashing into a banquet table laden with hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The table collapsed under his weight with a splintering crash. Food and broken glass exploded outward.

Robert lay in the wreckage, wheezing desperately, his face turning blue as he struggled to breathe. His eyes rolled back, consciousness flickering.

"ROBERT!" Victoria screamed, rushing toward him.

Jason stood frozen, all bravado gone, staring at his father's crumpled form in the ruins of their celebration.

The crowd pressed against the walls, as far from Alexander and Marcus as they could get.

Alexander walked calmly to where Robert lay gasping like a landed fish. He crouched down, bringing his face level with his uncle's.

"That's for my mother," he said softly. "And we're just getting started."

Robert's lips moved soundlessly, trying to form words, trying to breathe. His hands clutched at his stomach where the kick had landed.

Victoria dropped to her knees beside him, mascara running down her cheeks. "Someone call an ambulance! Please! He's dying!"

"Dying," Alexander mused, standing. "Yes. I imagine that's how my mother felt. As you forced her to kill herself. "

He looked around at the horrified, pale faces of the city's elite.

"Now," Alexander said clearly, his voice carrying to every corner of the ballroom. "Let's talk about justice."