Chapter 7 - The Winter Gala
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Two weeks later, the annual Chicago Winter Gala was held at the Field Museum. It was the social event of the season, a place where billionaires, politicians, and old-money families gathered to drink champagne and pretend they actually liked each other.
The Parker family was there. They had to be. In their world, missing the Winter Gala was a public admission of defeat.
I arrived an hour late, precisely as planned.
I wore a floor-length, backless emerald gown that clung to every curve, paired with diamond drop earrings that caught the light like fire. I didn't arrive alone. Julian Vance had offered to escort me, citing that our new business partnership required a public debut to truly terrify the market.
As Julian and I walked down the grand marble staircase into the main hall, the room physically shifted. Conversations stopped. Heads turned.
At the far end of the room, standing near the ice sculptures, was the Parker family. Daniel, Margaret, and Ethan.
Ethan looked terrible. He had lost weight, his eyes were dark with exhaustion, and his tailored tuxedo looked slightly too big for him. When he saw me walking down the stairs with Julian Vance’s hand resting possessively on the small of my back, the glass of champagne slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.
“Try not to smile too widely,” Julian whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my neck. “We want them terrified, not angry.”
“I’m perfectly calm,” I murmured back, stepping off the final stair.
We mingled, shaking hands with senators and CEOs. Everyone wanted to talk to the mysterious woman who had suddenly stepped out from the shadows to reveal herself as the head of Riverstone Holdings.
Eventually, the inevitable happened. Ethan broke away from his parents and marched across the room toward us.
“Claire,” Ethan said, his voice tight, his eyes darting aggressively toward Julian.
“Ethan,” I replied coolly. “You look tired.”
“What are you doing here with him?” Ethan hissed, leaning in close. “He’s Vanguard. He’s the one stringing us along on the bridge loan.”
Julian let out a soft chuckle. He took a sip of his bourbon and looked at Ethan with absolute pity.
“I’m not stringing you along, Ethan,” Julian said smoothly. “I sent the formal rejection to your father’s inbox twenty minutes ago. I just wanted to be here to see your face when you realized you have absolutely no one left.”
Ethan went completely rigid. He looked from Julian, to me, the horrific realization finally setting in.
May you like
“You did this together,” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling.
“No,” I said softly, looking him dead in the eye. “I did this. Julian is just holding my coat.”
