Chapter 32 - The Gala of Ghosts
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The grand ballroom of the Yates Estate looked exactly as it had on the night of my anniversary—the same crystal chandeliers, the same white lilies, the same polished hardwood floor.
Except tonight, there was no music.
The thirty wealthy guests who had stood by, sipping champagne and laughing while Brandon broke my knees and Melissa cut my hair, were standing in the center of the room. They were guarded by twelve heavily armed Yates enforcers standing along the perimeter.
None of them were allowed to leave. None of them were allowed to use their phones.
I entered the room down the grand staircase, stepping slowly and deliberately in my black pantsuit and gold-headed cane. Cooper walked at my heel, his low growl sending a wave of absolute terror through the crowd.
When the guests saw me walking—seeing the steel braces gleaming beneath my trousers and the cold, regal authority in my eyes—several socialites broke down into hysterics.
"Welcome back to my home, everyone," I said, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. "I trust you remember our last gathering?"
No one dared to answer. A prominent real estate developer, Mr. Henderson, fell to his knees, trembling. "Emily... please! We didn't know! Brandon told us it was a performance art piece! We didn't realize he was actually hurting you!"
"Performance art?" I scoffed, walking up to Henderson and tapping his shoulder with the tip of my gold cane. "You watched a man shatter my bones with a hammer and called it art?"
"We were afraid!" a high-society woman sobbed. "Brandon had armed men!"
"You weren't afraid," I said flatly. "You were amused. You thought the truck driver's daughter was finally getting put in her place."
May you like
I gestured to Viktor, who stepped forward carrying a silver tray filled with legal documents and pens.
"Every single one of you owns major shares in banks, construction firms, and news networks," I announced. "Tonight, you are transferring fifty-one percent of your corporate stock to the Yates Foundation. If you sign, you walk out that door alive. If you refuse, my men will make sure your families read your obituaries in the morning paper."
