Chapter 4 - The Gala at the Drake
The Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel was a sea of velvet, black silk, and champagne fountains. Chicago’s high society—intermingled with its most dangerous underworld brokers—mingled beneath crystal chandeliers, whispering about stocks, real estate, and political favors.
At eight o'clock, a sleek silver limousine pulled up to the front entrance. The valet opened the door, and a woman stepped out, immediately capturing the attention of every photographer lined along the red carpet.
She wore an emerald-green silk dress that draped effortlessly over her tone, athletic frame. Her dark hair was swept up in a sophisticated French twist, held by a diamond hairpin. Her posture was flawless, radiating an aura of dangerous, untouchable elegance.
It was Avery Carter.
Beside her, wearing a tailored midnight-blue tuxedo, was Dominic Moretti. He offered her his arm, and she took it, her hand resting gracefully on his sleeve.
"You look stunning," Dominic murmured as they walked through the grand revolving doors. "Nobody in this room will recognize the girl from the delivery sedan."
"Good," Avery whispered, her eyes scanning the lobby, noting the locations of the six armed guards stationed near the exits. "Let's keep it that way until I'm inside the vault."
They entered the ballroom, where Victor Whitmore—a portly, gray-haired man with cold, greedy eyes—was holding court near the stage. Beside him stood Vanessa, wearing a dramatic scarlet gown, sipping champagne and laughing loudly at a senator's joke.
When Dominic and Avery walked into the room, the conversations around them faltered. Dominic’s presence was always heavy, but the woman on his arm drew every eye.
Vanessa turned, her glass halting halfway to her lips. She squinted at Avery, her eyes narrowing as a slow, horrific realization began to dawn on her face.
"Dominic?" Victor Whitmore stepped forward, offering a fake, broad smile. "I didn't think you'd grace us with your presence tonight. And who is your lovely companion?"
"This is Avery," Dominic said smoothly, his hand resting comfortably at the small of Avery's back. "A close personal business partner of mine."
Vanessa stepped forward, her face pale with fury and confusion. "Business partner? Dominic, are you insane?! That's the girl! The delivery driver from last month! The one who attacked me!"
Victor’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze shifting sharply from his daughter to Avery, then to Dominic. "What is the meaning of this, Moretti?"
"Your daughter has a poor memory for faces, Victor," Avery said, her voice dropping into a smooth, icy velvet that carried across the surrounding circle of guests. "The last time we met, your daughter was lying on the floor of the Lake Forest estate, crying over a dirty dress. I thought tonight I'd dress appropriately so she wouldn't feel so intimidated."
A low murmur rippled through the gathered elites. Vanessa’s face flushed bright red. "You little parasite! Father, call security! Throw her out!"
"Shut up, Vanessa!" Victor snapped under his breath, his eyes darting nervously around the room. He could feel the eyes of his investors on him. He stepped closer to Dominic, lowering his voice. "If you brought this trash here to make a scene, Moretti, you're making a mistake. This is my event."
"It was your event, Victor," Dominic whispered back, his expression entirely devoid of humor. "Enjoy the party."
Dominic nodded at Avery. That was the signal.
Avery turned on her heel and slipped away into the crowd, heading toward the private corridors behind the ballroom. Vanessa, consumed by rage, broke away from her father and followed her into the dark hallway, determined to confront her.
"Hey!" Vanessa barked, her high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor as she rounded the corner into the service wing. "Stop right there, you broke trash!"
Avery stopped outside the heavy steel doors leading to the vault room. She slowly turned around to face Vanessa.
"You thought you were clever, didn't you?" Vanessa spat, stepping closer, her fingers digging into her clutch. "Getting Dominic to dress you up like a princess? You're still a filthy little driver from Cicero. Your mother is dying in a cheap clinic, and you belong in the gutter!"
Avery didn't raise her voice. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a flash. Before Vanessa could react, Avery reached out, seized Vanessa’s wrist, twisted it back, and slammed her against the wall with absolute precision.
The clutch dropped to the floor. Avery pulled a small pair of zip-ties from her clutch, bound Vanessa’s wrists behind her back, and shoved a silk handkerchief into her mouth, silencing her muffled screams.
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Avery leaned in close to Vanessa’s ear, her voice a deadly whisper. "Eight years ago, your father stole my family's life. Tonight, I'm taking it back. Enjoy the view from the floor."
Avery dragged Vanessa into a supply closet, locked the door from the outside, and turned toward the vault.
