Chapter 5 - The Gala of Wolves
The Grand Ballroom of the Waterfront Hotel was a glittering sea of champagne, velvet dresses, and roaring conversation.
Cameras flashed continuously along the red carpet as politicians, media moguls, and wealthy socialites arrived.
Inside the VIP lounge on the second floor, Diane and Chloe sat on plush velvet sofas, surrounded by three news reporters and two high-profile lawyers. Diane wore an gaudy red dress she had bought with her casino winnings, holding a glass of cheap prosecco, her face painted with fake grief.
"He took my stepdaughter!" Diane cried dramatically to a Globe reporter. "Gabriel Costa is a monster! He threatened to burn our house down if we didn't hand her over!"
"And you have proof of this debt?" the reporter asked, writing furiously.
"I have text messages!" Chloe added smugly, holding up her phone. "Nora was terrified of him!"
Suddenly, the music in the main ballroom below abruptly stopped.
A wave of dead, heavy silence washed over the four hundred guests in the hall, followed by the rapid, rhythmic clicking of dozens of camera shutters.
The reporter turned toward the glass balcony. "What's happening?"
Diane stood up, smoothing her dress, a greedy grin on her lips. "Probably the police coming to take my statement."
They walked out onto the balcony overlooking the grand marble staircase.
Diane’s smile instantly froze.
Walking down the grand staircase, illuminated by a hundred flashing news cameras, was Gabriel Costa.
And on his arm was Nora.
She moved with an effortless, breathtaking grace, her black velvet dress sweeping the marble floor, the multi-million-dollar black diamond necklace catching the light like a constellation of dark stars.
She didn't look like a terrified kidnapping victim.
She looked like an empress reviewing her court.
Beside them, Leo stepped up to the main podium microphone, holding a legal document.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Leo’s voice boomed over the ballroom speakers. "Mr. Gabriel Costa and his wife, Mrs. Nora Costa, welcome you to the Boston Harbor Gala."
The room erupted into a frenzy of camera flashes and shocked whispers.
Diane dropped her champagne glass. It shattered against the marble floor, spilling golden wine across her boots. "What... what is she doing...?"
Gabriel guided Nora through the crowd, stepping directly toward the VIP balcony staircase where Diane and her reporters were standing.
The reporters rushed forward, shoving microphones toward Nora.
"Mrs. Costa! Mrs. Costa!" a female journalist shouted. "Your stepmother claims you were kidnapped three nights ago to settle a gambling debt! Is this true?"
Nora stopped.
She looked at the reporter, then slowly turned her eyes toward Diane, who was shrinking back against the wall, her face pale as a sheet.
Nora remembered the freezing alley. The thin sweater. The wet shoes. The way Diane had tossed her away like trash for an envelope of cash.
A cold, unshakeable calm washed over Nora’s soul.
"My stepmother is a deeply confused woman," Nora spoke into the microphones, her voice clear, elegant, and resonant across the ballroom. "Three nights ago, my husband, Gabriel Costa, saved me from an abusive home where I was worked like a servant. He paid off my family's debts out of the kindness of his heart, and he made me his wife."
Nora reached up, resting her hand lovingly against Gabriel’s cheek, looking up at him with absolute, genuine devotion.
"Gabriel is my protector," Nora declared, looking straight into the news cameras. "And anyone who attempts to slander my husband’s name will answer to our legal team."
Diane let out a choked gasp, clutching her chest.
May you like
Gabriel looked up at Diane, his grey eyes flashing with lethal amusement. He reached into his tuxedo pocket, pulled out a thick silver business card, and tossed it onto the table in front of her.
"My fraud investigators will be visiting your apartment at eight tomorrow morning, Diane," Gabriel said softly, loud enough for the reporters to hear. "I suggest you hire a good lawyer."
