Chapter 14 - The Charity Gala Redux
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Three months later, the social season demanded their return.
It was the annual Metropolitan Spring Gala. The same caliber of event where, just months prior, Vanessa Cole had attempted to humiliate Grace. The media anticipation was at a fever pitch. Would the billionaire's new, controversial relationship hold up under the brutal scrutiny of New York's elite?
Grace stood in the master suite, taking a deep, steadying breath.
She wasn't wearing a borrowed dress this time. She wore a custom, blood-red Valentino gown that draped flawlessly over her curves, commanding the room. An elegant, tasteful diamond necklace rested against her collarbone—a genuine gift from Ethan, not a prop.
"Are you ready, my love?" Ethan asked, wheeling into the room in a razor-sharp tuxedo.
"I am ready to conquer them," Grace smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.
When they arrived at the museum, the red carpet was a chaotic sea of flashing bulbs. Grace didn't flinch. She walked beside Ethan's chair with regal, unshakeable confidence. She smiled for the cameras, her hand resting proudly on his shoulder.
Inside the grand hall, the whispers began immediately.
Grace noticed Vanessa Cole standing near the champagne fountain. Despite her family's financial ruin following the board scandal, Vanessa had managed to secure a pity invite. She looked bitter, holding a glass of red wine, her eyes tracking Grace with venomous intent.
As Grace walked toward the restroom, Vanessa deliberately stepped into her path, feigning a stumble, thrusting the glass of red wine directly toward Grace's pristine red gown.
It was a classic, vicious society maneuver.
But Grace wasn't the scared maid anymore. Her reflexes, honed by years of carrying heavy trays, were lightning fast.
Grace fluidly caught Vanessa's wrist mid-air—an exact, chilling replay of their first encounter. The wine sloshed violently but remained inside the glass.
Vanessa froze, her eyes widening in shock.
"You really only have one trick, don't you, Vanessa?" Grace said, her voice dripping with pity rather than anger.
Grace didn't cause a scene. She simply took the wine glass from Vanessa's trembling hand, set it on a passing waiter's tray, and leaned in close.
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"I am not a victim anymore," Grace whispered. "And you are embarrassing yourself. Go home."
Grace released her wrist and walked away, leaving Vanessa standing alone and utterly defeated in the middle of the gala. The society wars were officially over. Grace had won.
