Chapter 4 - The Grand Entrance
The massive double brass doors at the top of the ballroom’s grand marble staircase burst open.
A wave of gasps rippled through the five hundred guests in the room.
Two dozen photographers rushed to the foot of the stairs, their flashbulbs exploding like a thousand lightning strikes against the dark velvet drapery.
I stepped into the light.
The obsidian silk gown caught the glow of the chandeliers, shimmering like liquid midnight. The Tears of Artemis diamond flared with intense blue light against my throat. I descended the marble steps slowly, every step deliberate, graceful, and commanding absolute silence from the crowd.
At Table One, Weston’s glass of scotch froze halfway to his lips.
His eyes widened until they looked ready to pop out of his head. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse in a tuxedo.
“What...” Weston stammered, his voice choked. “What is... what is she...”
Claudia gasped, her gold bag slipping from her hand and hitting the floor with a loud clatter. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
“Elowen?” Claudia whispered, terror leaking into her tone. “Is that... that can’t be Elowen!”
Victoria stood up slightly from her chair, staring at the woman on the staircase in sheer disbelief.
“No,” Victoria muttered, her polished voice shaking. “No, that’s impossible! That’s... that’s the Chairwoman of Vanguard?”
I reached the bottom of the staircase, where the city’s mayor and the chairman of the Federal Reserve were already waiting, bowing their heads respectfully as they extended their hands.
“Madam Sterling,” the Mayor said warmly. “An absolute honor to finally meet you in person.”
“Thank you, Mayor,” I replied, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet ballroom. “It’s wonderful to be here.”
I turned my head slightly, my cold gaze sweeping across the VIP section until my eyes locked directly onto Weston Prescott.
He was shaking.
I offered him a small, razor-sharp smile.
Weston pushed his chair back violently, scrambling to his feet. “Elowen! What is the meaning of this? Why are you dressed like that? What joke are you playing?”
The entire room went dead silent. Heads turned from every table, staring at the middle-aged CEO shouting across the room.
May you like
Julian, stepping out from behind my security detail, stepped between Weston and me, his arm extended calmly.
“Stand back, Mr. Prescott,” Julian said in a voice that cut like glass. “You are addressing the majority owner of Vanguard Global.”
