Chapter 6 - The Red Dress
By 7:00 PM, the grand ballroom of the Grand Hyatt Downtown was packed with four hundred aristocrats, politicians, and news reporters.
A fifteen-piece orchestra played classical waltzes, champagne towers glittered beneath massive crystal chandeliers, and waiters in white gloves moved through the crowd with silver trays.
At the head table sat Camille Vale, wearing an emerald green dress, chatting animatedly with the State Attorney General while Adrian stood nearby, sipping scotch and pretending to laugh at a senator’s joke.
Vanessa sat beside him, wearing her signature red velvet dress, looking around the room as if she already owned the place.
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany doors of the ballroom swung open.
The orchestra didn't stop, but the conversation at the nearest tables died instantly.
The silence spread across the room like an oil spill, table by table, until the entire four-hundred-person gallery had turned to face the entrance.
I walked into the ballroom on Lucian Moretti’s arm.
I wore a floor-length, custom crimson silk gown with a daring backless cut and a thigh-high slit that revealed black lace heels. My dark hair was swept up into an elegant, modern bun, exposing my neck and the waterfall of Moretti diamonds that blazed like a galaxy against my skin.
Beside me, Lucian walked with the quiet, lethal grace of an apex predator, dressed in a tailored black tuxedo with a red silk pocket square matching my gown.
The contrast between us—danger and beauty, power and revenge—was so sharp it took the air straight out of the room.
Across the ballroom, Adrian dropped his glass of scotch.
The heavy crystal shattered against the parquet floor, amber liquid and ice splashing across his shoes, but he didn't even look down. His face was dead white, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open as he stared at me.
Beside him, Camille’s smile froze into a grotesque mask of horror.
“Good evening, everyone,” Lucian’s smooth, deep voice broke the silence as he nodded politely to the Mayor, who was standing nearby. “Please, don't let us interrupt the celebration.”
Lucian guided me smoothly toward the high-society crowd, his hand resting firm and warm against the small of my bare back. Every step I took felt like walking on the chest of my enemies.
Adrian pushed through the crowd, his posture stiff, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he intercepted us near the champagne fountain.
“Elena,” Adrian choked out, his voice shaking with a combination of rage, embarrassment, and an undeniable, pathetic regret. “What… what are you doing here? You don't belong in this room!”
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I stopped, turning my head to look at him as if he were a fly buzzing around my glass.
“I belong anywhere I choose to stand, Adrian,” I said smoothly, taking a crystal glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. “And tonight, I stand above you.”
