Chapter 9 - THE DAWN OF THE QUEEN
Twenty-four hours later, the grand ballroom of the Aster Hotel was once again lit with golden light from its three massive chandeliers.
The ice sculpture of the swan had been removed, replaced by a massive arrangement of white orchids and red roses. The shattered martini glass had been swept away, the marble floor polished until it shone like a mirror.
Tonight, there were no temp servers from Elite Staffing walking the floor in cheap polyester uniforms.
Tonight, the ballroom belonged to Victor Romano.
Every politician, judge, shipping executive, and high-society matriarch in Massachusetts stood packed within the room, holding silver flutes of vintage champagne, speaking in low, respectful whispers as they waited for the hosts to arrive.
At 8:00 PM, the grand mahogany double doors swung open.
Lev stepped into the room, announcing the entrance in a voice that carried to every corner of the ceiling.
“Ladies and gentlemen: Mr. Victor Romano and Miss Dora Hayes.”
The room held its collective breath as Dora walked into the light.
She did not wear a server’s vest. She did not look like the girl who had cleaned cafeteria trays at St. Brigid’s Academy.
She wore a breathtaking, floor-length midnight-blue silk gown that matched the color of Victor’s suit. Diamonds glittered at her throat and ears—gifts from the Romano vault. Her dark hair was styled into elegant, soft waves, and her chin was held high with an absolute, quiet authority that had been forged in the fire of survival.
Victor walked beside her, his arm linked with hers, his pale gray eyes sweeping over the crowd with calm, undisputed ownership.
When they reached the center of the ballroom, where the broken glass had lain four nights ago, the crowd parted instantly, bowing their heads in silent, total submission.
A city councilman stepped forward, raising his champagne glass, his voice trembling slightly.
“To Mr. Romano,” he announced. “And to Miss Hayes. May their reign over Boston be long and prosperous.”
“To Miss Hayes!” the whole room echoed in unison—two hundred powerful people shouting the name of the girl they had ignored three days ago.
May you like
Dora looked across the sparkling room, her hand resting warmly on Victor’s arm. She saw her reflection in the tall arched windows, no longer invisible, no longer hiding in the shadows of someone else’s world.
She had arrived.
