Chapter 11 - THE GALA BEFORE THE FALL
Victoria expected Dominic to hide.
Instead, he walked into the gala through the front door.
The event filled the ballroom of a Fifth Avenue hotel with bankers, politicians, donors, executives, and enough expensive jewelry to finance my dissertation for several lifetimes.
I entered beside Dominic wearing a borrowed black dress.
For once, nobody mistook me for staff.
Victoria stood near the stage in silver silk.
Her father, Charles Vale, stood beside her.
He was seventy-one, white-haired, elegant, and smiling like a man who had spent his life believing consequences were for other people.
When he saw me, his smile disappeared.
“Mary Miller’s daughter.”
I stopped.
“You remember her.”
“I remember everyone who causes unnecessary trouble.”
Dominic stepped between us.
“Careful.”
Charles laughed.
“You always did inherit Enzo’s temper.”
“And apparently his bad lawyers.”
Victoria approached.
“Dominic, you shouldn’t be here.”
“It’s my company.”
“For the moment.”
That told me everything.
She truly believed the indictment was coming.
The gala began.
Victoria took the stage and spoke about “stability,” “responsible leadership,” and “protecting employees during uncertain times.”
Then she announced Dominic would temporarily surrender executive authority.
Dominic stood.
“No.”
A murmur rolled through the room.
Victoria froze.
Dominic continued.
“My wife forgot to mention why she wants control.”
Charles moved toward the exit.
Two federal agents entered the ballroom.
Not to arrest anyone yet.
To observe.
Victoria saw them.
Then she saw me holding a folder.
Her expression finally cracked.
I stepped toward the stage.
“This document has been presented as proof Dominic approved the Kessler ownership clause twelve years ago.”
Charles snapped:
“Who is she?”
I answered before anyone else could.
“The person who can prove it was forged.”
I opened the academic edition.
The phrase matched perfectly.
Publication date: nine years ago.
A document supposedly signed twelve years earlier could not contain language first published three years later.
The ballroom erupted in whispers.
Charles stared at Victoria.
Victoria stared at me.
Then Dominic’s attorney received a message.
He read it.
His eyes widened.
The federal complaint had been paused.
We had won time.
But only time.
Then Charles leaned toward Victoria and whispered something.
I caught three words.
“Burn Matteo’s file.”
Dominic heard them too.
May you like
And suddenly the gala was no longer about money.
It was about murder.
