Chapter 13 - Ghosts in Satin
The Grand Atrium of the Plaza Hotel glistened beneath two dozen crystal chandeliers, their light refracting off thousands of champagne flutes. It was nearly identical to the ballroom where Victoria had struck Lucas eight months ago. The same intoxicating smell of lilies and roasted almonds hung in the air, the same superficial laughter masked the cutthroat deals being struck in corners.
When the heavy gilded doors opened and the head steward announced our arrival, the entire hall seemed to hold its breath.
"Mr. Sylvester Vance and Ms. Elena Ross."
The chatter didn't merely fade; it died. Heads turned in unison.
I was dressed in a sleek, floor-length midnight-blue velvet gown, my bare shoulders adorned only by the delicate diamond choker Sylvester had placed around my neck that evening. Beside me, Sylvester looked imperial in a bespoke tuxedo, his posture radiating unyielding authority. Lucas was safe at home under the watchful eyes of five armed guards and his tutor, leaving us entirely free to confront the vultures.
At the center of the ballroom, standing near the marble fountain, stood Victoria Caldwell.
She was visibly different from the arrogant woman who had worn emerald silk on the night she insulted my child. Though she was draped in thousands of dollars of white satin and diamonds, her face was sharper, her eyes feverish with a desperate hunger. Standing beside her was a tall, silver-haired man in his late fifties with cold, pale eyes—Julian Sterling.
"Elena," Sylvester murmured, not breaking stride as we descended the grand staircase. "Do not engage with the servant when the master is standing right there."
"I have no intention of lowering myself," I answered softly.
As our feet touched the marble floor, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. Prominent bankers and foreign diplomats bowed their heads politely as Sylvester passed, their eyes flickering with nervous curiosity.
Julian Sterling stepped forward, a patronizing smile touching his thin lips. Victoria trailed behind him, her gaze locked onto me with a mixture of sheer hatred and profound terror.
"Sylvester," Sterling greeted, extending a gloved hand. "It has been far too long since you graced a public gala. We were beginning to think you had retreated into domestic retirement."
Sylvester didn't take the hand. He simply looked at Sterling’s outstretched palm with mild amusement until the older man let it drop back to his side.
May you like
"Retirement is for men who run out of opponents, Julian," Sylvester replied smoothly. "I see you’ve been scouring the city’s wreckage for leftovers. Victoria looks... remarkably intact for someone whose family name is being scrubbed off public libraries."
Victoria flinched as if slapped, her knuckles turning bone-white against the stem of her champagne flute.
