Chương 8 - The Davenport Retribution
While the Ashfords crumbled into public ignominy, there was still one loose thread that needed to be tied: Victoria Davenport.
Victoria had believed her father’s political connections and high-society status would insulate her from the fallout. She had assumed that by discarding Gavin the moment the scandal broke, she could simply pivot back to her glamorous Manhattan social life, untouched and blameless.
She was wrong.
On the third Thursday of November, the annual Metropolitan Museum of Art Charity Gala was held in the Great Hall. It was the premier event of the New York social season—an evening of diamonds, black ties, and performative philanthropy.
Victoria arrived in a breathtaking crimson Dior gown, escorted by a French venture capitalist. She held her chin high, flashing her dazzling smile for the red-carpet photographers, desperate to prove that the Ashford collapse hadn't tainted her social standing.
I arrived twenty minutes later, on my father’s arm.
The flashbulbs erupted in a blinding storm. I wore a backless emerald-green velvet dress, completely exposing the smooth, unblemished skin of my back and neck. The burn from Priscilla’s soup had healed entirely under Dr. Evans’s expert care, leaving no trace of the humiliation the Ashfords had tried to carve into my flesh.
Around my neck hung the Vance family heirloom—a flawless sixty-carat cushion-cut sapphire surrounded by pavé diamonds that had belonged to my late mother.
The whisper through the Great Hall was instantaneous.
*“That’s Nora Vance.”*
*“The Vance heiress... the one who brought down Ashford Industries.”*
*“She looks magnificent.”*
I walked into the grand ballroom with the absolute grace of a woman who owned every single room she walked into. Victoria was standing near the champagne tower, holding a flute of Cristal, chatting animatedly with two society columnists.
As I approached, the conversation died. The columnists took one look at me, exchanged panicked glances, and discreetly melted away into the crowd.
Victoria was left standing alone, her smile freezing onto her face like cheap porcelain.
“Nora,” she managed, her voice brittle. “I... I didn't realize you would be attending this evening.”
“I’m sure you didn't, Victoria,” I said smoothly, accepting a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter. “Apex Capital took over the gala’s primary endowment fund this morning. As the new chairwoman of the Vance-Apex Foundation, it would have been rude not to attend.”
Victoria’s hand trembled, the champagne rippling in her glass. “Look, Nora... what happened between Gavin and me was purely professional at first. He misled me about the state of his marriage. He lied to me about everything.”
“Save your breath,” I said softly, stepping close enough that only she could hear my voice over the string quartet playing in the gallery. “I didn't come over here to talk about Gavin. Gavin is irrelevant.”
Victoria swallowed hard. “Then why are you here?”
“To let you know that the maritime shipping contracts your father’s firm held with the Port Authority were reviewed this afternoon,” I whispered with a sweet, lethal smile. “Vance Logistics acquired the port lease at noon. Your father has until midnight on Friday to renegotiate his transport fees—at a forty-percent markup.”
Victoria turned deathly pale. “You’re ruining my father’s company! Over a man I barely cared about?!”
“No, Victoria,” I murmured, clinking my water glass against her untouched champagne flute with a crystal-clear chime. “I’m doing it because you tried to steal my daughter’s future to fund your luxury lifestyle. Gavin lost his family. You are going to lose your empire.”
May you like
I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving Victoria Davenport standing alone under the chandeliers, realizing that some games don't have a second round.
***
