Chapter 15: The Gala
The ballroom of the Grand Hotel was a desperate, glittering illusion. Despite the federal raids and the plummeting stock, Victoria had refused to cancel the winter charity gala. She stood near the entrance in a stunning emerald gown, greeting the remaining social elite who had braved the scandal to attend. Her smile was brittle, her eyes darting nervously around the room.
Julian stood near the bar, flanked by Marcus and three heavily armed men disguised in tailored tuxedos. Beneath their jackets, they carried suppressed submachine guns. The tension in the room was suffocating. The orchestra played a sweeping waltz, but it sounded like a funeral dirge.
At 10:00 PM, the heavy golden doors of the ballroom swung open.
The orchestra faltered, the music dying in a discordant screech of strings. The chatter in the room instantly evaporated.
Elena stood in the doorway. She was wearing the exact same crimson silk dress she had worn the night Julian slapped her. It was a deliberate, horrifying provocation. Beside her stood Silas, looking lethal and immaculate in a dark tuxedo, his eyes scanning the room, immediately clocking Marcus and his men.
"She actually came," Marcus whispered into his lapel mic. "Hold positions. Let them step into the room."
May you like
Elena ignored the gasps and the frantic whispering of the crowd. She glided down the carpeted steps, moving directly toward Victoria. Julian’s heart hammered against his ribs. He caught Marcus’s eye and gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
The final act had begun. There would be no walking away tonight. The ballroom, with its crystal chandeliers and flowing champagne, was about to become an abattoir.
