Chapter 13 - The Gala Trap
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Friday night arrived with a glittering, suffocating tension.
Blackwood Manor was transformed into a dazzling spectacle of wealth and power. Valets parked fleets of luxury cars. Three hundred guests, including politicians, judges, and rival mob bosses, filled the grand ballroom, sipping champagne under the crystal chandeliers.
To the untrained eye, it was a night of high-society elegance.
To Emma, it was a battlefield.
She wore a crisp black uniform with a starched white apron, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Hidden beneath her collar was a tiny tactical earpiece, connecting her directly to Marco’s security team in the basement.
“Check one, Emma,” Marco’s voice crackled softly in her ear.
“I hear you, Marco,” she whispered back, adjusting her tray of champagne flutes.
“Julian is entering the ballroom now. Keep your eyes on him.”
Emma turned. Julian Blackwood glided into the room, wearing a bespoke white tuxedo that made him stand out like a beacon. He smiled warmly at the guests, playing the perfect host, but Emma could see the nervous, predatory energy radiating from him.
Victor stood on the opposite side of the room, holding court with a group of senators, projecting total, unbothered control.
Emma moved gracefully through the crowd, offering drinks, remaining completely invisible. Just another plus-size maid blending into the background.
She shadowed Julian for two hours. She watched him shake hands, laugh at jokes, and subtly check his gold Rolex watch every five minutes. He was waiting for something.
At 10:30 PM, Julian slipped away from his table and walked toward the quiet, dimly lit corridor leading to the service elevators.
Emma quickly set her tray down and followed, keeping her footsteps light on the heavy carpets.
She peeked around the corner. Julian was standing by the service elevator, talking in hushed, frantic tones to one of the catering staff—a man Emma didn't recognize.
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“The perimeter is clear,” Julian whispered. “Harold left the service tunnel unlocked. Bring the men up at midnight. When Victor goes to the balcony for his cigar, we hit him.”
Emma’s blood ran cold. The hit was happening in ninety minutes.
