Chapter 6 - The Charity Gala
On the evening of October 17th, the Metropolitan Arts Gala took place. It was the premier society event of the autumn, an event my family had underwritten for thirty years. Grant had arrogantly assumed I would hide at home in shame.
He arrived with Savannah on his arm, determined to project an image of untouchable triumph. Savannah wore an emerald-green silk maternity gown, radiant with the delusional glow of a woman who believed she had won high society’s ultimate game of chess.
When I stepped into the grand ballroom, the chatter died down. I was wearing an immaculate ivory column gown, wearing my grandmother’s diamond choker—jewelry that had belonged to the Vance lineage for four generations.
Savannah noticed me first. A smug smirk crossed her red lips as she pulled Grant toward the champagne fountain where I stood conversing with Simon Drake and three senior board members.
“Claire,” Savannah purred, stepping forward with deliberate theatricality. “How brave of you to come tonight. We were worried you’d be feeling unwell.”
Grant looked pale, his eyes darting frantically around the room, reading the icy glares of the city’s most influential industrialists. “Savannah, let’s go back to our table,” he muttered under his breath.
“Nonsense, darling,” she sneered, looking down at my simple gold wedding band with contempt. “Claire should know that there are no hard feelings. Tomorrow is a historic day for all of us. New chapters require clearing away old clutter.”
I looked at her with genuine pity. “You really have no idea who he is, do you?”
“I know he’s the CEO of Vance Holdings,” Savannah shot back, raising her voice so the surrounding crowd could hear. “And tomorrow, he’s mine.”
May you like
“Tomorrow,” I replied, taking a slow sip of my water, “he will be exactly what he was when I found him.”
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