Chapter 5 - Clara's Intervention
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Before Lena could argue further, the heavy double doors of the penthouse swung open.
Clara Whitmore swept into the room, her ice-blue gown trailing behind her like a frozen waterfall. She looked furious, the perfect societal mask slipping to reveal the ruthless, calculating woman beneath.
"Victor," Clara demanded, her voice sharp and echoing in the large suite. "Your men are locking down the entire hotel. My father’s guests are being detained in the ballroom. This is a public relations disaster."
Victor didn't step away from Lena. He slowly turned his head to look at his fiancée.
"A man tried to murder me, Clara," Victor said, his tone lethally calm. "The public relations of your father’s charity gala are currently at the bottom of my priority list."
Clara’s eyes flicked to Lena. Disgust curled her perfectly painted lips.
"And why is the help still here?" Clara sneered. "Give her a check for her silence and send her out the back door. You're causing a scene over a waitress."
Lena shrank back, the familiar feeling of being utterly insignificant washing over her. Clara was the kind of woman who crushed people like her for sport.
"The 'help' is the only reason I am not lying in a body bag right now," Victor said, his voice dropping an octave.
"Leon acted alone," Clara insisted quickly. A fraction too quickly. "He was greedy. He wanted your territory. Have Dmitri handle him and let’s move on."
Victor’s eyes narrowed. He was a man who noticed everything. He noticed the slight tremor in Clara’s hands, the defensive posture, the urgency to sweep the entire incident under the rug.
"Leon didn't have the capital to fund a strike of this magnitude," Victor stated, walking slowly toward Clara. "He needed a silent partner. Someone with deep pockets and a vested interest in seeing a power shift."
"Are you accusing my family?" Clara gasped, taking a step back, her outrage appearing slightly too rehearsed.
"I am accusing no one. Yet," Victor replied. He gestured toward the door. "Go home, Clara. The engagement party is over."
"Victor, you can't be serious. You're choosing to isolate yourself with this... this nobody instead of relying on your allies?"
"I am relying on the only person in that ballroom who didn't want something from me," Victor said.
He didn't look back at Clara. He walked over to Lena, wrapping a heavy, warm hand around her trembling upper arm.
"Dmitri is bringing the armored car around," Victor told Lena, ignoring his sputtering fiancée. "We leave in five minutes."
Clara glared at them, her face twisting in pure, venomous hatred, before spinning on her heel and storming out of the penthouse.
May you like
Lena looked up at Victor. "She hates me."
"She should," Victor murmured, leading her toward the private elevator. "Because you just ruined her entire plan."
