Chapter 5: The Gala Trap
The Metropolitan Opera House was filled with New York’s top billionaires, politicians, and celebrities
for the annual Vantage Charity Gala. Despite the corporate upheaval, Clara had insisted the event
proceed as scheduled.
Clara arrived in a breathtaking floor-length emerald silk dress, wearing a simple yet priceless diamond
choker. Her presence commanded the entire ballroom; every camera flashed as she walked in, the
picture of supreme power and grace.
In the shadows of the VIP balcony, dressed in a sharp tuxedo, stood Marcus Kane. Concealed inside
his inner jacket pocket was a high-tech, micro-poison dart gun—undetectable by standard security
scanners. His target was standing near the central champagne fountain, chatting effortlessly with
foreign ambassadors.
"Target acquired," Marcus muttered into his earpiece. "Executing in ten seconds."
He raised his arm subtly, aligning the barrel through a opening in the balcony railing. His finger
rested on the silent trigger.
Suddenly, a cold metal barrel was pressed firmly against the back of Marcus’s neck.
"I wouldn't squeeze that trigger if I were you, Mr. Kane," a calm, smooth voice whispered from behind
him. It was Ethan, Clara’s chief of security, flanked by two silenced operatives.
Marcus froze, his heart pounding against his ribs. "How... how did you spot me?"
"You think you selected this balcony?" Ethan chuckled quietly. "Madam Clara assigned this ticket to
you three days ago through an anonymous ticket scalper. She chose your sniper perch for you."
Before Marcus could react, Ethan disarmed him with lightning speed, slipping the poison weapon into
a containment box.
Below on the main floor, Clara turned slowly toward the balcony, raising her champagne glass toward
Marcus in a silent, terrifying toast. Marcus was dragged quietly out through the service exit into an
awaiting unmarked police van.
Among the crowd, Julian Vance watched in utter terror as his ultimate weapon was neutralized
May you like
without a single commotion. Panic seized his chest; he realized Clara was not just playing chess—she
owned the entire board.
