Chapter 5 - THE VENOM IN THE WINE
Friday night was the apex of Ethan’s social calendar: The Blackwell Foundation’s annual charity gala. It was the event of the season, where billionaires, politicians, and Hollywood elite gathered to drink champagne and pretend they cared about saving the ocean. This year, it was especially crucial for Ethan. He was using the gala to court investors for a massive hostile takeover of a rival tech firm. He needed to project absolute power and financial invincibility.
I wasn't invited, of course. But that didn't matter.
At 9:00 PM, a blacked-out Maybach pulled up to the red carpet at the Waldorf Astoria. The paparazzi's cameras were already flashing like strobe lights. When the chauffeur opened the door, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
I stepped out, not in the conservative, submissive gowns Ethan always forced me to wear, but in a breathtaking, backless crimson silk dress that clung to every curve like liquid fire. My hair was swept into an elegant, sharp updo, and dripping from my neck was the legendary "Star of Antwerp" diamond necklace—a twenty-million-dollar piece Ethan had purchased years ago and locked in a vault. He didn't know I had taken it.
I walked past the velvet ropes. The security guards—who all reported to Marcus—conveniently looked the other way, letting me glide straight into the grand ballroom.
The room was a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns, buzzing with the clinking of crystal and quiet laughter. Across the room, standing near an ice sculpture, was Ethan. He was holding a glass of scotch, laughing with the Mayor and two banking executives. Vanessa was clinging to his arm, wearing an ostentatious diamond tiara that looked utterly ridiculous on her.
The moment Ethan saw me, the color drained from his face. The glass of scotch froze halfway to his mouth. The crowd slowly parted, the whispers spreading like wildfire as the discarded wife marched into the lion's den wearing the king's ransom.
I didn't approach him. I simply walked over to the main bar, ordered a glass of vintage Bordeaux, and turned to face the room.
Ethan aggressively excused himself from the bankers and stormed over to me, his eyes blazing with a barely contained fury. Vanessa trailed closely behind him like a confused puppy.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Ethan hissed, his voice a venomous whisper to avoid causing a scene. "And how the hell did you get that necklace out of my vault?"
"It looked better on me," I said smoothly, taking a sip of the wine.
"You are trespassing, Emily. I will have security drag you out by your hair if you don't leave this instant," he threatened, his fists clenching at his sides.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ethan," I replied, my voice carrying clearly over the soft jazz playing in the background. "Because if you make a scene, you're going to embarrass yourself in front of the man who just bought your company."
Ethan barked a laugh. "No one bought my company. Blackwell Industries is bulletproof."
"Is it?" I asked softly. "You might want to check your phone. Or better yet, call your broker."
Ethan's brow furrowed. He pulled his phone from his tuxedo pocket. He had fourteen missed calls. Nine from his chief financial officer, five from his lead attorney. His thumb hovered over the screen, and I watched the exact moment his world imploded.
His face went from pale to a sickly shade of ash. His eyes widened in absolute horror as he read the desperate text messages.
The Cayman accounts are empty.
The blind trusts have been drained.
We are defaulting on the tech acquisition. The margin calls are triggering. We're billions in debt.
"What... what did you do?" Ethan stammered, his confident, commanding voice reducing to a pathetic squeak.
Vanessa, sensing the sudden shift in power, grabbed his arm. "Ethan? What's wrong?"
He violently shoved her hand away. "Shut up, Vanessa!" He stared at me, hyperventilating. "Where is my money, Emily? Where is it?!"
May you like
I stepped closer to him, close enough to smell the expensive cologne and the sudden, pungent scent of his terror.
"Your money?" I whispered, echoing the words he had spoken to me just a week ago. "You really thought any of this was about love, Ethan? You've lived a very comfortable life. But everything you have... exists because of me."
