Chapter 8 - THE UNDERWORLD GALA|
Three days later.
The grand ballroom of the Metropolitan Hotel glittered with crystal chandeliers, polished brass, and the dangerous elite of the city's underworld. High-ranking politicians, corrupt judges, and cartel bosses mingled over champagne flutes and caviar.
Elena stood beside Adrien at the edge of the main floor.
She wore a backless black velvet gown, her dark hair pinned up with diamond clips that Adrien’s jeweler had delivered that morning. Around her throat sat a collar of platinum and emeralds worth more than her former life combined.
Tommy was gone—boarded onto a private flight to Portugal twenty-four hours ago with a fresh identity and cleared ledgers. Adrien had kept his word.
Now, it was Elena's turn to pay her debt.
"Keep your head high," Adrien instructed quietly, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. "You look like royalty. Act like it."
"They're staring at me," Elena muttered under her breath, holding a glass of sparkling water.
"They are wondering who managed to tame the phantom," Adrien replied smoothly, nodding toward a passing senator.
Suddenly, a group of heavy-set men in dark gray suits approached them. The leader was a man with a scarred jaw and yellowed teeth—Don Sergio Moretti.
"Adrien," Sergio grunted, his eyes sliding over Elena with crude appreciation. "I see you've brought a new flower to the party. Pretty thing."
Adrien’s grip on Elena’s waist tightened to iron. "Watch your eyes, Sergio. Or I will have them removed."
Sergio chuckled darkly, though his gaze hardened. "Defensive tonight, are we? Just wanted to congratulate you on your new waterfront contract. Shame if something were to... disrupt your supply lines."
While the two mob bosses exchanged veiled threats, Elena’s attention drifted toward the second-floor mezzanine overlooking the ballroom.
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A man wearing a waiter's coat was standing behind a grand marble pillar. But he wasn't carrying a tray.
Elena caught the metallic glint of a dark cylinder emerging from beneath his jacket—a suppressed pistol aimed directly down at the back of Adrien’s head.
