Chapter 8 - The Ruin of Prescott Logistics
The guards moved instantly.
Weston fought and screamed as he was dragged out through the main doors of the grand ballroom in front of every major news outlet, corporate executive, and political figure in the state.
“Elowen! ELOWEN!” his voice echoed down the marble hallway until the double doors swung shut, cutting him off completely.
The ballroom broke into a flurry of frantic whispers and camera flashes.
Victoria Vance quickly gathered her purse and tried to slip out through a side exit, but two private investigators hired by Vanguard stepped into her path, serving her with subpoenas for corporate embezzlement and insider trading charges related to her fake negotiations.
Claudia Prescott was escorted out through the service entrance, weeping hysterically into her ruined evening shawl.
I turned back to the crowd, raising my champagne glass toward the stage.
The host, quickly recovering from the sheer drama of the last twenty minutes, cleared his throat and walked back to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the host called out, his voice enthusiastic. “Let us raise a toast to our host and benefactor... Madam Elowen Sterling!”
The entire room erupted into thunderous applause. Billionaires and senators queued up, eager to shake my hand, exchange business cards, and offer their condolences for the short-lived marriage to a man who had thrown away a fortune.
I stood at the center of the room, surrounded by light, respect, and power.
May you like
For eight years, I had hidden my light to make a small man feel big.
Never again.
