Chapter 6 - The Trap at the Gala
The Annual Chicago Founders Gala was the premier social event of the year, a gathering of the old-money dynasties and the new-money titans inside the historic grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel. Despite the looming federal indictments, Julianna and Celeste Monroe arrived in full evening wear, covered in their remaining high-end diamonds, trying to project an aura of complete, unbothered invincibility to the press cameras lining the red carpet.
They believed Victor Cross had secured a secret settlement agreement with the federal prosecutors that afternoon. They thought they were walking into a room full of peers who would welcome them back.
They were wrong.
The moment Celeste stepped into the grand ballroom, the music died away. The three hundred elite guests turned their heads, their faces cold, their eyes fixed on the massive projector screens built into the ballroom’s marble pillars.
Marcus Vance had bypassed the hotel’s AV network twenty minutes earlier.
Playing on every screen in the room, in high-definition clarity with flawless audio, were the unedited text messages and audio recordings of Celeste planning the financial destruction of her own employees and the calculated isolation of my mother. The voice notes echoed off the crystal chandeliers, loud and clear: "The old woman will be moved to an assisted care facility out of state... she's ruining our aesthetic."
"Turn it off! Turn it off right now!" Julianna shrieked, her face turning an ugly, mottled shade of red as she lunged toward the stage managers.
But no one moved. The high-society crowd—the same people Celeste had giggled with near the fountain—backed away from them like they were infected with a plague.
I stepped out from the crowd, dressed in a flawless midnight-blue tuxedo, holding a single glass of plain water. I walked slowly across the polished floor until I stood inches away from my former fiancée.
"Adrian!" Celeste cried, her eyes wild with a manic, unstable panic as she tried to grab my sleeve. "It’s a fabrication! Your tech team engineered those files to humiliate me! You know how much I love your family! You know I’ve always respected your mother!"
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"You didn't respect the water, Celeste," I said, my voice echoing through the silent ballroom. I slowly tipped my glass, pouring the cold water directly over her expensive designer gown. The liquid soaked the white silk, leaving a dark, ugly stain that spread down her waist.
"Look at you," I whispered, repeating the words she had once used against my mother. "Your cheap soul is ruining my aesthetic."
