Chapter 4 - The Golden Calf
Word Count Target: ~1,500 words
The night of Mia’s engagement party arrived with all the forced, theatrical elegance of a high-society circus.
The event was being held in a private ballroom at the historic Fairmont Hotel downtown. Crystal chandeliers cast a dazzling, warm glow over rows of round tables draped in floor-length white linen cloths, surrounded by gold-trimmed chiavari chairs. Waiters in crisp black vests moved gracefully through the crowd carrying silver trays of champagne flutes.
I arrived precisely at 7:00 p.m.
Instead of a rental suit or my standard work attire, I wore a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo tailored specifically to my frame, complemented by a subtle silk tie and a vintage Patek Philippe watch that cost more than Derek’s entire wardrobe.
When I stepped through the double doors of the ballroom, the ambient noise of clinking glasses and polite conversation dipped slightly as a few heads turned my way.
I didn't look down. I kept my shoulders back, my chin high, and a calm, polite smile resting on my face.
My mother spotted me first. Her eyes widened, scanning my tailored tuxedo with an expression that flickered between defensive pride and calculated calculation. She nudged my father, who was standing near the bar talking to a thick-set man in an expensive gray suit whom I instantly recognized as Peter Hastings.
Mom practically glided across the polished marble floor toward me, her arms outstretched as though we hadn't spent the last six months completely estranged.
“Connor!” she cooed, stepping in for a tight, entirely insincere hug. “Oh, darling, look at you! You look so handsome. I’m so glad you decided to come. We’ve missed you so much.”
I gently pulled back, keeping a polite, professional barrier between us. “Good evening, Mom. Nice to see you.”
“Your father and I were hoping you’d make it,” she continued, her voice dropping into that conspiratorial, sugary tone she only used when she wanted something from me. “Everyone’s here. Mia is glowing, and we have so many important people for you to meet tonight. In fact, your father is talking to Mr. Hastings right now—the venture capitalist! You two work in the same field, you should really connect.”
“Is that right?” I murmured, letting my eyes drift across the room toward where my father and Peter Hastings were standing.
“Yes! Derek has been telling us all about his incredible new app, and Mr. Hastings is heavily considering an initial seed investment,” Mom whispered eagerly, clearly laying the groundwork for the trap she expected me to walk right into. “And, you know... since you’re doing so well in finance, your father thought maybe you’d want to come in as a co-investor to support your new brother-in-law.”
There it was. Right on schedule. They hadn't changed at all. To them, I was still nothing more than an ATM with a pulse.
“Well,” I replied smoothly, maintaining my pleasant smile. “Let’s see what Derek has to say about his business model first. Wouldn't want to rush into anything blind, right?”
Mom beamed, completely missing the razor-sharp irony dripping from my words. “That’s my sensible boy! Come on, let me introduce you to your father and Mr. Hastings.”
She practically dragged me across the ballroom floor.
My father looked surprised when he saw me standing beside Mom in a tuxedo that clearly outclassed his own. A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, quickly masked by a forced, welcoming grin.
“Connor. You made it,” Dad said, extending a hand.
I shook his hand firmly, keeping my grip steady and dominant. “Wouldn't miss my sister’s engagement for the world, Dad. Especially not after hearing how much excitement there is around her fiancé’s new enterprise.”
Peter Hastings turned his head, his sharp, intelligent eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down. Hastings had built a multi-million-dollar venture capital empire by reading people in seconds.
“Ah,” Hastings said, his deep voice carrying a note of professional interest. “Your father mentioned you’re in wealth management, son. What firm do you manage portfolios for?”
Before I could answer, Derek materialized out of nowhere, holding two glasses of champagne, a blinding, overly practiced salesman smile plastered across his face.
“Peter! There you are, my man,” Derek interrupted smoothly, throwing a heavy, overly familiar arm around Hastings’ shoulders. Then he noticed me. His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “Oh—hey! Connor, right? Glad you could crawl out of your cave to join us tonight.”
I looked down at his arm draped over the venture capitalist, then back up into Derek’s nervous, shifting eyes.
“Congratulations on the engagement, Derek,” I said, my voice cutting through the ambient noise of the room with absolute clarity. “I hear your pitch for the new startup is making waves. In fact, I was just telling my mother that I’m extremely eager to look at the financial disclosures and corporate balance sheets myself.”
Derek’s smile twitched. A thin sheen of sweat suddenly materialized across his forehead under the bright ballroom lights.
“Oh—well, you know, tech startups are fast-paced, high-growth environments,” Derek stammered, laughing nervously. “We’re still ironing out some of the preliminary backend financials, right, Peter?”
Peter Hastings slowly removed Derek’s arm from his shoulder, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. His gaze flicked from Derek to me, sensing the sudden, palpable tension in the air.
“Actually, Derek,” Hastings said, his voice dropping into a cool, analytical register. “I always like to review hard data before I commit capital. Certified P&L statements, debt-to-equity ratios, and a clean corporate history. No fluff.”
I smiled—a calm, devastatingly polite smile.
“Funny you should mention that, Mr. Hastings,” I said, sliding my hand inside my tuxedo jacket. “Because as it turns out, I brought a complete dossier on Derek’s corporate history right here in my pocket. And I think everyone—especially you, Mr. Hastings—would find it absolutely fascinating reading.”
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The color drained entirely from Derek’s face. He looked like he had just been struck by lightning.
And across the ballroom, my mother and father began walking toward our little circle, completely unaware that the bomb they had set for me was about to blow up right in their faces.
