Chapter 5 - The Gala of GhostsThe grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel was filled with six hundred of Chicago’s most influential figures. Gold leaf chandeliers hung from the soaring ceiling, reflecting light off silk gowns, diamond necklaces, and crystal champagne towers. It was the annual Blackwood Holdings Charity Gala—the event where Ethan was slated to announce his official marriage date with Victoria Hale.
Victoria stood near the ice sculpture in the center of the room, holding a glass of Vintage Dom Pérignon, surrounded by high-society reporters and board members. She looked radiant, powerful, and utterly victorious.
"Victoria, darling," a female socialite cooed, adjusting her diamond choker. "We heard a dreadful rumor about some common girl creating a scene at Le Cygne today. Is Ethan alright?"
Victoria laughed airily, a sound like glass beads falling on velvet. "Oh, you know how these things are. Desperate people try to attach themselves to success when big financial announcements are near. Ethan handled it with his usual ruthlessness. The woman was escorted out, and it's completely forgotten."
Across the ballroom, the heavy brass doors swung open.
A collective hush fell over the crowd near the entrance.
Ethan Blackwood stepped into the ballroom. He was not wearing his tuxedo. He wore his dark charcoal suit from earlier, his tie loosened at the throat, his eyes bloodshot, cold, and razor-sharp.
Behind him walked his father, Richard Blackwood, holding his mahogany cane, flanked by two armed private security guards and a prominent federal prosecutor.
Victoria’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She smoothed her gown and glided quickly toward them, sensing a shift in the room's atmospheric pressure.
"Ethan, darling, you're late," Victoria purred, reaching out to fix his collar. "The reporters are waiting for our announcement—"
Ethan grabbed her wrist before her fingers could touch his shirt. His grip was firm, cold, and unyielding.
"Where is your father, Victoria?" Ethan asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear it, but laced with an icy venom that made her blood run cold.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed slightly, her aristocratic mask slipping just an inch. "Donald is speaking with the board members in the VIP lounge. Ethan, what is the meaning of this? Unhand me, people are watching!"
"Let them watch," Richard Blackwood spoke up, stepping forward, his voice booming across the immediate circle of guests. "Because tonight, the high society of Chicago is going to learn how the Hale family builds its corporate mergers."
Before Victoria could speak, the private security guards stepped aside, allowing a woman to walk into the center of the grand ballroom.
Hannah Carter stood in the doorway. She was dressed simply in a plain dark blue dress, her hair pulled back neatly, holding Noah’s small hand in hers. The six-year-old boy looked around the glittering ballroom with wide, innocent eyes, clutching a small stuffed bear to his chest.
Gasps erupted from the crowd. Whispers rippled across the room like wildfire as guests recognized the woman from the afternoon’s confrontation at Le Cygne.
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Victoria’s face drained of all color, turning as white as her designer gown. "What is she doing here?!" she shrieked, dropping her polished facade entirely. "Security! Remove this woman and her bastard immediately!"
"Touch her," Ethan warned, stepping directly between Victoria and Hannah, his chest heaving with dangerous authority, "and I will personally ensure that your father’s firm is insolvent by midnight."
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