Chapter 9 - The Gala at the Halden Estate
The Halden family summer estate glowed like a gilded cage against the dark coastline. Valet parkers in crisp white uniforms rushed to park rows of Bentleys and Lamborghinis as guests in designer gowns and tuxedos streamed through the grand double doors.
When Adrian's black sedan pulled up to the red carpet, all conversation among the paparazzi seemed to pause. Flashbulbs erupted like lightning storms as Adrian stepped out first, adjusting his cuffs with effortless elegance, before turning to offer me his hand.
I stepped out wearing a stunning, backless crimson evening gown that clung to my curves like liquid fire, my hair styled in cascading Hollywood waves. The bruised wrist and bandaged feet were completely hidden beneath silk and cosmetics, but inside, I was pure steel.
As we walked up the stone steps, whispers swept through the crowd. <i>'Isn't that Celeste's stepdaughter? Wasn't she ousted from the board this morning? Who is she with... Adrian Cross?'</i>
We entered the grand ballroom, where crystal chandeliers cast sparkling reflections over hundreds of elite guests drinking champagne. Standing near the marble fireplace were Celeste Halden and her brother, Richard Halden, both dressed in immaculate white formalwear, laughing with a city councilman.
Their laughter died instantly when they saw us walking toward them.
Richard Halden, a tall, slick-haired man in his late forties with cold, reptilian eyes, set his champagne flute down so hard the stem shattered against the marble mantel. Celeste clutched her pearls, her face turning an ugly shade of mottled grey.
"Victoria," Richard hissed, stepping forward, trying to block our path. "You have a lot of nerve showing your face here after the stunt you pulled this morning with this corporate raider."
"My name is Victoria Halden, Uncle Richard," I said, my voice cutting through the ballroom chatter with razor-sharp clarity. I stopped two feet away from him, my chin tilted up, looking down on him despite my shorter stature. "And this isn't a stunt. It's a hostile takeover—starting with your family estate, and ending with your prison cell."
Richard's face flushed a deep, violent crimson. He raised his hand, balling it into a fist, stepping forward as if he meant to strike me right there in front of society's elite.
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Before I could even blink, Adrian moved with terrifying speed. He stepped between us, catching Richard's wrist in a crushing iron grip that made the older man wince in agony. Adrian leaned in close, his voice dangerously low, audible only to the four of us.
"Touch her, Richard, and I won't just take your company," Adrian whispered, his eyes flashing with lethal intent. "I'll make sure you spend the rest of your natural life eating through a straw in a maximum-security cell."
