Chapter 10 - The Gala Begins
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The Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria was a glittering sea of political power, corporate wealth, and silent, dangerous money. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the hundreds of guests wearing couture gowns and expensive tuxedos.
A string quartet played softly in the corner, almost drowned out by the clinking of champagne glasses and polite, hushed conversations.
The heavy mahogany doors at the top of the grand staircase swung open.
The major domo cleared his throat. “Mr. Luca Castellano, and Mrs. Nora Castellano.”
The entire ballroom went dead silent. The music faltered.
Hundreds of heads turned simultaneously toward the staircase. Luca Castellano rarely attended public events, and he had never brought a woman. The rumors of his sudden, secret marriage had dominated the underworld whispers for weeks, but no one had seen the new bride.
Nora placed her hand on Luca’s arm, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
“Hold your head high,” Luca murmured, placing his other hand over hers, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “They are already terrified of you.”
They began their descent down the sweeping marble staircase.
Nora felt the weight of their stares. She saw the politicians quickly stepping aside, clearing a path. She saw the rival syndicate bosses nodding in deep, fearful respect. She wasn't just a woman walking into a party; she was walking in as the untouchable matriarch of a violent, massive empire.
At the bottom of the stairs, the crowd parted like the Red Sea.
Luca led her effortlessly through the room, accepting polite, terrified congratulations from city officials and corporate CEOs. Nora smiled, offering graceful nods, her confidence blooming with every step. She felt the heavy weight of the diamond necklace, a physical reminder of the power she now wielded.
Across the room, standing near a towering ice sculpture, Gregory Whitmore was holding a glass of scotch.
He had expected Nora to look haggard, broken, perhaps wearing a cheap dress she had bought off a clearance rack. He expected her to be cowering in the corner, overwhelmed by the wealth surrounding her.
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When his eyes finally landed on the stunning, radiant woman in the black silk gown holding the arm of the most dangerous man in New York, the scotch glass slipped from Gregory’s hand.
It shattered against the marble floor, but in the tense, silent atmosphere of the Castellano entrance, nobody even bothered to look at him.
