Chapter 16 - The Gala of Wolves
The American Maritime Conservation Gala was held annually at the historic Custom House in Boston, an event attended by the most influential dynasties of New England, New York, and Montreal. Adrien was the keynote benefactor this year, having pledged twenty million dollars to protect the North Atlantic whale migration corridors.
Marcus Vance was on the board of trustees.
He hadn't expected us to attend. He had assumed that after his dramatic arrival at Kennebunkport, I would retreat deep into the cottage, terrified of the legal threats he had hurled onto our driveway.
Instead, when the heavy oak doors of the ballroom swung open at eight o'clock that evening, Adrien and I walked in together, hand in hand.
The ballroom fell into a hush that rippled outward like waves from a dropped stone. Adrien was breathtaking in a midnight-blue tuxedo, his broad shoulders and commanding posture commanding immediate deference from every banker and governor in the hall. Beside him, I wore an emerald-green silk column dress that flowed like liquid water to the marble floor, my dark hair pinned up with simple pearl combs. My neck was bare, unadorned by diamonds or sapphires, radiant in its absolute simplicity.
Marcus was standing near the central champagne fountain, surrounded by three corporate executives. When his eyes caught mine, his champagne flute slipped from his fingers, shattering across the polished floor.
"Elena..." he muttered, stepping blindly away from his associates.
Before he could reach us, however, another figure emerged from the crowd near the south terrace doors. A woman in a daring crimson dress, her platinum blonde hair styled in dramatic waves, her makeup heavy enough to conceal the strain around her eyes.
It was Genevieve.
The whispers in the ballroom escalated into a low, buzzing hum of scandal. Genevieve was supposed to be in exile, pariah-status after the Vance lawsuits had gone public. Yet here she was, clutching a gold evening clutch, her eyes fixed venomously on Elena.
"What a touching family reunion," Genevieve mocked, her voice carrying over the string quartet as she walked directly toward our path. "The runaway secretary who trapped an heir, and the sea captain who bought her off the clearance rack."
The room seemed to freeze. Several older society matriarchs gasped in shock.
Adrien didn't even blink. He looked at Genevieve not with anger, but with the cold, bored disdain one might give a stray mosquito. "Security," Adrien called out calmly, raising a single finger toward the perimeter of the room.
"Wait!" Marcus shouted, shoving his way past the onlookers, his face flushed scarlet with embarrassment and fury. "Genevieve, what the hell are you doing here? I took your security pass! Keller, get this woman out of my sight!"
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"You can't kick me out, Marcus!" Genevieve hissed, her voice turning shrill, the mask of high-society elegance slipping completely off. "I was invited by the junior endowment committee! And everyone in this room deserves to know what kind of fraudulent bastard you really are!"
***
