Chapter 4 - The Society Ambush
In our city, power wasn't just wielded in boardrooms; it was wielded at the country club. The annual Winter Charity Gala was the most exclusive event of the year, a room filled with old money, sharp teeth, and unforgiving memories.
Three weeks had passed since the funeral. Marcus was desperately trying to keep his agency afloat, operating out of a cheap co-working space, fighting my mother's legal team at every turn. He had been spinning a narrative to anyone who would listen that I was a hysterical, grief-stricken woman trying to ruin him over a misunderstanding.
I made sure they both received anonymous invitations to the Gala.
When I arrived at the ballroom, the whispers started immediately. I didn't wear black. I wore a custom crimson Valentino gown that swept the floor, diamonds at my throat, and a smile that promised absolute ruin.
Marcus and Chloe arrived twenty minutes later. Marcus looked haggard, his suit slightly wrinkled. Chloe, desperately trying to maintain her grip on high society, was wearing a cheap, off-the-rack sequin dress. Without Marcus's stolen funds, her wardrobe had severely downgraded.
They tried to mingle, but the elite are ruthless. Every circle they approached suddenly became fascinated with their champagne glasses.
I waited until they were standing near the center of the room, isolated and tense, before I made my approach.
"Marcus," I said, my voice carrying over the string quartet. The room subtly went quiet, the predators sensing blood in the water.
Marcus jumped, his eyes darting around the room. "Eleanor. We shouldn't do this here."
"Oh, I think this is the perfect place," I smiled, sipping my champagne. I turned my gaze to Chloe, looking her up and down with slow, deliberate pity. "I see you had to return the Mercedes, Chloe. I suppose the subway is more your speed anyway."
Chloe’s face flushed a violent red. "You are a bitter, lonely woman, Eleanor. Marcus loves me. He never loved you."
"Did he tell you that?" I asked, feigning surprise. "Did he also tell you that the FBI subpoenaed his financial records this morning?"
Marcus went completely rigid. "What?"
"Yes," I said pleasantly, ensuring the surrounding socialites could hear every word. "It turns out embezzling two million dollars from a real estate conglomerate leaves a paper trail. But don't worry, Chloe. I'm sure they won't look too closely at the luxury condo he rented under your name using stolen funds. Oh, wait. Yes, they will. You're an accomplice to federal wire fraud."
Chloe’s arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror. She looked at Marcus. "What is she talking about? You said the money was from your bonuses!"
"She's lying!" Marcus hissed, sweating profusely. "Chloe, don't listen to her!"
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"I don't lie, Marcus. My lawyers don't lie. And the feds certainly don't lie," I whispered, stepping close enough for only them to hear. "I want my McQueen dress back by tomorrow morning. Dry-cleaned. Or I hand the security footage of you wearing it to the district attorney to prove you were the beneficiary of stolen assets."
I turned my back on them and walked away, the crowd parting for me like I was royalty. Behind me, I heard the satisfying sound of Chloe slapping Marcus across the face.
