Chapter 4 - The Gala of Traitors
Six weeks had passed since the fire.
Chicago was bathed in the crisp, golden light of late autumn. Through non-stop round-the-clock labor funded by Dominic’s endless resources, the new Sullivan’s Bread & Honey was nearly completed—a stunning five-story brick-and-glass monument to resilience, featuring a flagship bakery, artisan kitchen, and a luxurious private residence on the top floors.
Meanwhile, baby Oliver was thriving. Under Claire’s constant care and nourishment, he had gained healthy weight, his cheeks were rosy, and his bright blue eyes—so like his father’s—followed Claire wherever she moved in the room.
However, the shadow of Sal Moretti still hung over the city.
To bring Moretti out into the open and solidify his absolute control over the Chicago Outfit, Dominic announced the annual Hale Foundation Charity Gala at the opulent Drake Hotel—a gathering of the city’s political elite, judges, syndicate bosses, and high-society figures.
Tonight was the night Claire would make her formal debut into Chicago high society—not as a humble baker from Cicero, but as Dominic Hale’s partner.
In the master suite of the Lake Forest estate, Claire stood before a full-length mirror, taking her own breath away.
She wore a custom floor-length gown of deep emerald green velvet that hugged her curves and exposed her delicate shoulders. Her auburn hair was styled in elegant, soft waves, pinned with pearl clips. Around her neck rested a stunning antique diamond necklace—a Hale family heirloom that Dominic had placed on her earlier that evening.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Dominic stepped into the room.
He wore a dark velvet tuxedo that made him look impossibly handsome and lethally imposing. But when his eyes met Claire’s reflection in the mirror, he froze, completely mesmerized.
He walked up behind her, his large hands settling gently on her hips. "You are breathtaking, Claire."
Claire smiled, leaning her head back against his chest. "I feel like a stranger in this dress."
"You look like a queen," Dominic corrected her softly, kissing the side of her neck, sending shivers through her body. "My queen."
"Is Oliver ready?" she asked, turning in his arms.
"Dr. Feldman and Marcus are staying with him in the hotel’s private VIP suite upstairs," Dominic assured her. "Ten armed guards are patrolling the floor. He is completely safe."
Claire nodded, taking a deep breath. "Then let's go face your city."
The Grand Ballroom at The Drake Hotel was a sea of glittering chandeliers, silver champagne trays, and whispering crowds. Over five hundred influential guests filled the room, but the moment Dominic Hale entered with Claire Sullivan on his arm, a hush fell over the entire ballroom.
Whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire.
"Is that the baker girl?" "She’s wearing the Hale diamonds..." "Look at the way he looks at her..."
Dominic guided Claire through the room with effortless authority, introducing her to senators, federal judges, and wealthy donors. Claire handled herself with quiet elegance, her natural warmth and sharp intelligence captivating everyone she spoke with.
Suddenly, the crowd parted.
Sal Moretti walked toward them, flanked by his two top lieutenants and his treacherous legal counsel, Arthur Vance. Moretti wore a smug smile, holding a glass of champagne.
"Dominic," Moretti sneered, his gravelly voice carrying over the music. "A fine evening. And who is this lovely lady? The famous wet nurse who saved your tragic little boy?"
The insult was deliberate, meant to humiliate Claire in front of Chicago's elite.
Dominic’s jaw tightened, his gray eyes darkening into murder. He stepped forward, but Claire gently placed her hand on his forearm, holding him back.
She stepped straight toward Moretti, her head held high, her emerald eyes flashing with cold, regal confidence.
"Mr. Moretti," Claire said, her voice crystal clear, echoing across the silent circle of onlookers. "I am Claire Sullivan. The woman whose bakery you tried to burn down. The woman whose brother-in-law you tried to bribe. And the woman who is currently watching your shell companies collapse under federal fraud indictments."
Moretti’s smug smile froze. "What did you say?"
Claire took a small, elegant sip from her champagne glass. "Dominic and I spent the last three weeks auditing the property records you used to leverage your dock loans. We handed those documents to the United States Attorney’s office two hours ago. By midnight, your bank accounts will be seized."
Gasps erupted across the ballroom!
Moretti’s face turned a violent shade of red. He stepped toward Claire, his hands trembling with rage. "You arrogant little bitch—"
Before Moretti could finish his sentence, Dominic moved with lightning speed. He grabbed Moretti by the throat, lifting the older mob boss nearly off his feet, slamming him against a marble pillar!
CRASH!
Champagne glasses shattered as guests backed away in horror!
"Touch her or speak to her again," Dominic growled into Moretti’s ear, his voice vibrating with lethal violence, "and I won't wait for the feds. I will feed you to the fish in Lake Michigan."
Dominic threw Moretti to the floor. Moretti gasped for air, coughing violently, as his lieutenants scrambled to drag him away while federal agents—who had just entered the ballroom with arrest warrants—closed in on the disgraced mob boss.
The crowd erupted into hushed applause and murmurs as Moretti was led away in handcuffs.
Dominic turned back to Claire, breathing heavily, his tuxedo slightly ruffled.
Claire stepped toward him, reaching up to gently fix his lapel, a small, proud smile on her lips. "You promised no violence at the gala."
May you like
Dominic wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him, a rare, genuine laugh escaping his chest. "I made an exception for you, my love."
He leaned down and kissed her deeply in front of all of Chicago high society, sealing their bond forever.
