Excess in Proportion

The celebration roared to life. Voices, laughter, the clash of glasses. The grand dining hall pulsed with life, gold and hunger spilling through every corner. Harvey's girls moved between the guests like well-rehearsed performers.

Tina spotted Danjela a few tables away. She moved fast. Light on her feet, almost dancing. A tray in one hand, a quick smile, then gone. She was like a sunbeam in a room full of shadows. That was what made her so special to her. Tina sat at the table. Calm. Observing.

Harvey beside her, relaxed at the head of the table. The satisfied smile on his lips looked casual, almost tender, but she knew it meant more. A gesture. A message. She was his again.

But the sense of belonging faded quickly. Another feeling lingered: the suffocating power that filled the air. Through all the glances, the unspoken rules, and the quiet hostility.

Then the scream.

It hit Tina like a blow, tearing her out of her thoughts.

Danjela was standing near one of the tables. Her face flushed, eyes wide, hands trembling as she tried to cover her breasts with what remained of her blouse. Her fingers clutched the thin fabric. Buttons scattered across the floor like tiny, lost witnesses.

Tina stared. Her mouth opened to scream, but still quiet. Unable to move, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Some guests giggled somewhere.

Then that laugh. Loud. Boastful.

An older man in a suit.

Tina froze. Understanding came slowly. Her hands clenched into fists.

Danjela still stood there. Half-covered. Half-paralyzed. Entirely exposed.

Suddenly, something had shifted. The room fell silent. And Harvey stood. Inevitable. Unshakable. Like a verdict. Ice in his voice: "Hector."

The man straightened, grinning. "Come on. It was just a joke."

He laughed again. This time, alone.

Harvey didn't answer. He turned instead, took off his jacket, and draped it around Danjela's shoulders. Gently. He wiped away one of her tears. Tina felt it. All of it.

Back at the table. "What do you think it costs to lay a hand on one of my girls?" His voice was razor-sharp.

"Oh, come on. Your new toy is just too shy."

Harvey grabbed Hector by the tie and slammed him onto the table. So fast he couldn't react. The room gasped. Harvey's foot pressed to his neck. "How do you plan to pay for that?"

"What do you want?"

"How about your life?"

No one moved.

"I... I'm sorry."

"Do you forgive him?"

Tina felt something twist inside her.

Danjela moved. Just enough for Harvey to act.

He nodded. "Good. But I want to teach you a lesson. All of you."

The room froze.

He reached for the champagne bottle, poured himself a glass. Raised it. Drank.

The bottle came down hard, Hector's hand crushed between shattered glass and a table dressed in white, immaculate, decadent silk.

A scream. Blood. Shards. The man collapsed, shrieking. Harvey didn't look back.

As Hector was dragged out, Tina simply watched.

That kind of hardness had once pushed her away. A year ago, she had left Harvey because of his brutality. Now, that same cruelty drew her a little closer. Not because she had changed but because life had forced her to bend her own boundaries. Because the victim laid a hand on a friend.

And that's what shocked her: That she agreed with his reaction.

Just like you did.