Chapter 10 - The Gala's Secret
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The following afternoon, I drove to the Grand Regent Hotel under the pretext of retrieving a personal item left in the private coatroom on the night of the tragedy.
The main ballroom was still closed off to the public, sealed by yellow police tape and heavy wooden barricades while municipal inspectors investigated the cause of the structural failure.
I didn't go to the coatroom. Instead, I walked down the service corridor toward the facilities manager's office, where a contact Julian Thorne had set up was waiting for me.
Frank, a veteran structural inspector for the city, closed his office door and gestured for me to sit down.
"Mrs. Vance," Frank said, placing a thick blue folder on his desk. "I reviewed the preliminary engineering report on the grand chandelier collapse at your request."
"Was it an structural accident, Frank?" I asked.
Frank leaned forward, shaking his head slowly. "The iron mounting bracket that held the two-ton chandelier didn't just snap from age. It failed because three days before the gala, a private event contractor installed heavy decorative floral rigging directly onto the primary support cable without calculating the load limit."
My brows pulled together. "A private event contractor? Who hired them?"
Frank pulled a contract copy from the folder and slid it across the table.
"The hotel management turned over all interior setup logs to the city. The contract for the lighting and floral rigging was awarded exclusively to Lumina Design LLC."
I stared at the signature on the bottom of the work order.
Sierra Miller. Owner & CEO, Lumina Design.
My chest heaved as the terrifying truth slammed into my brain.
Sierra’s company had cut corners on the structural installation to save budget money, directly causing the two-ton fixture to collapse onto the floor where the children were sitting.
Sierra’s greed had nearly killed my daughter.
And Dylan—blinded by his obsession with Sierra—had not only defended her, but he had used his public platform to hail her as a victim while hiding the fact that her gross criminal negligence had caused the catastrophe in the first place.
"Does the police department have this report yet?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet.
"The municipal board is finalizing the official criminal negligence indictment tomorrow morning," Frank revealed. "It's scheduled to be handed over to the District Attorney by Friday night."
Friday night. The exact evening of Dylan’s televised victory dinner at the Metropolitan Club.
May you like
I looked at Frank and smiled—a slow, terrifying smile that sent a chill through the quiet room.
"Keep it quiet until Friday, Frank," I murmured, standing up and pulling on my black gloves. "The show is about to begin."
