Chapter 12 - The Grand Gala
Despite the swirling rumors of her impending legal doom, Eleanor Kensington refused to cancel her highly publicized annual charity gala.
She believed that if she projected an image of absolute power and immense wealth, the Boston elite would blindly protect her.
She was incredibly arrogant, entirely convinced that her money could still silence the storm gathering directly above her head.
The gala was held in the grand ballroom of the most exclusive hotel in the city, attended by politicians, celebrities, and billionaires.
I had been officially discharged from the hospital, and Lily was finally healthy enough to come home with me to Sarah’s apartment.
I bought a stunning, incredibly fierce deep crimson gown using a portion of the massive legal advance Marcus had secured for me.
I styled my hair perfectly, wore a bold red lip, and walked into that grand ballroom looking like absolute royalty.
When I stepped through the massive golden doors, the entire room fell into a dead, stunning silence.
The string quartet actually stopped playing as hundreds of wealthy guests turned to stare at the woman they had completely ostracized weeks ago.
Eleanor was standing near the massive ice sculpture, wearing diamonds paid for by stolen charity funds, her face completely freezing in sheer horror.
Julian was standing nearby, looking utterly miserable and completely trapped in his mother’s toxic web.
I walked directly toward Eleanor, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor, parting the crowd like the Red Sea.
I did not yell, and I did not make a dramatic, hysterical scene like she desperately hoped I would.
Instead, I handed her a thick, crisp white envelope bearing the official seal of the United States Federal Court.
I smiled sweetly and told her, loud enough for the closest socialites to hear, that she had officially been served.
Eleanor’s hands shook violently as she opened the envelope, reading the massive civil lawsuit demanding hundreds of millions in damages and restitution.
I leaned in closely, whispering directly into her ear so that only she could hear my final, victorious promise.
I told her that the FBI currently had Arthur Pendelton in a secure interrogation room, and they were auditing her foundation’s ledgers as we spoke.
The elegant, unbreakable mask of Eleanor Kensington finally, spectacularly shattered into a million pieces.
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She gasped for air, clutching her diamond necklace as if it were suddenly choking the life out of her.
I turned around and walked out of the ballroom, leaving her entirely ruined in front of the very society she worshiped.
