Chapter 4 - The Resurrection Gala
The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a glittering sea of diamonds, silk, and dangerous secrets.
New York’s most elite and ruthless families were gathered, drinking expensive champagne and plotting their next corporate takeovers.
In the center of the room stood Lorenzo Duca, Matteo’s charming but deeply sinister uncle.
Lorenzo laughed loudly at a joke, raising his glass in a toast to his wealthy companions.
Suddenly, the massive golden doors of the ballroom swung open, and the entire room fell dead silent.
The string quartet stopped playing abruptly, the screech of a violin echoing through the sudden, suffocating quiet.
Matteo stepped into the room, exuding absolute power in a custom black tuxedo.
But no one was looking at the billionaire CEO.
Every single pair of eyes was glued to the woman clinging to his arm.
Cameron wore a breathtaking, deep crimson silk gown that hugged her curves, a dress that had famously belonged to Sofia.
Around her neck rested the Duca family’s priceless diamond choker.
Her hair was styled in soft, elegant waves, and her makeup was flawless, making her look like a resurrected goddess.
Lorenzo Duca’s champagne flute slipped from his fingers, shattering into a hundred pieces on the polished marble floor.
His face drained of all color, turning a sickly, ghostly white as he stared at Cameron.
“Good evening, Uncle Lorenzo,” Matteo greeted smoothly, his voice echoing in the dead silence.
“I believe you remember my plus-one.”
Cameron forced herself to smile, channeling every ounce of courage she had learned on the tough streets of Chicago.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, Lorenzo,” she purred, her voice steady and chillingly calm.
Whispers erupted across the ballroom like a sudden wildfire, guests gasping and pointing in absolute shock.
Lorenzo stumbled backward, clutching his chest as though he had just seen a demon rise from hell.
“S-Sofia?” Lorenzo stammered, his eyes bulging with pure terror.
“Impossible... you burned... the car...”
Matteo’s eyes flashed with triumphant, lethal satisfaction.
“What was that, Uncle?” Matteo asked loudly, ensuring everyone nearby could hear.
“Did you say something about a car burning?”
Lorenzo realized his slip instantly, his mouth snapping shut as sweat beaded on his forehead.
He turned and practically ran toward the emergency exits, pushing wealthy socialites out of his way in his panic.
Cameron leaned against Matteo, her knees shaking so violently she thought she might collapse.
Matteo wrapped his strong arm securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid body.
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“You did perfectly, mia bella,” he whispered in her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine.
“The rat is officially running.”
