Chapter 25 - The Gala of Closed Doors
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The very first annual charity gala for the Hartley Door Fund was held in a beautifully restored historic library downtown. We had specifically chosen a grand venue filled with towering books and knowledge, perfectly symbolizing the education and absolute transparency we fought daily to provide our clients. The massive room was bathed in warm, golden light, completely filled with successful women, supportive corporate allies, and incredibly brave survivors who had successfully reclaimed their lives.
I wore a simple, elegant emerald-green gown, completely devoid of the heavy, ostentatious diamond jewelry Adrian used to forcefully make me wear to project his false wealth. I felt incredibly light. I felt entirely like myself.
Marisol found me standing near the elaborate champagne tower, her dark eyes practically sparkling with pure excitement.
"We just massively surpassed our initial fundraising goal for the entire night, and they haven’t even served the main course yet," Marisol whispered loudly over the smooth jazz quartet. "Dorian is currently charming a stubborn tech billionaire out of a six-figure donation for the emergency housing initiative."
"Dorian is a highly lethal weapon in a tuxedo," I laughed deeply, taking a slow sip of my sparkling water.
Just then, the heavy oak doors of the library swung aggressively open, and a bizarre hush fell over the immediate area. I turned, my genuine smile freezing instantly. Standing in the doorway, wearing a bespoke suit and an expression of profound, unearned entitlement, was Adrian. He had definitely not been invited. He was obviously not on the guest list. He was simply crashing the event to arrogantly prove he still could.
He spotted me immediately and began walking across the polished wooden floor, a predatory, calculated smile on his face. The room felt completely silent to me, even though the music continued to play.
"You look surprisingly well," Adrian said, stopping just inches from my personal space, desperately trying to tower over me. "Green was always your best color. Though I see you couldn't afford the necklace to match anymore."
"Building security is already on their way, Adrian," I said, my voice incredibly steady, completely devoid of the fear he was desperately seeking. "You have exactly thirty seconds to turn around and walk out."
"I just came to make a generous donation to your little charity project," he sneered, pulling a leather checkbook from his pocket.
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"We don't ever accept dirty money," Marisol interjected fiercely, stepping right to my side.
"Keep your checkbook, Adrian," I added, stepping forward, forcing him to take a step back. "You no longer have any currency here. Now leave, before I have you publicly escorted out in front of every major journalist in this city."
