Chapter 7 - The Gala of Knives
Thursday evening arrived with all the terrifying glamour of high-society Manhattan.
The annual Kane Global Philanthropic Gala was held in the glass atrium of the Museum of Modern Art. Over three hundred of the city’s wealthiest investors, politicians, and media moguls filled the grand hall, surrounded by champagne towers and string quartets.
I wore an emerald-green silk gazar gown with a dramatic off-the-shoulder neckline, custom-tailored for me by Adrian’s personal stylist. My dark hair was swept up into an elegant twist, and around my neck rested a vintage diamond choker borrowed from the Kane estate vault.
Beside me, Adrian was devastatingly handsome in a black velvet tuxedo. His hand rested firmly against the small of my back as we moved through the glittering crowd.
“You’re trembling,” Adrian murmured into my ear, his breath warm against my neck as we stopped near a flower arrangement.
“I’m surrounded by people who want to tear me apart, Adrian,” I whispered back, smiling politely for a passing photographer. “Your mother is watching me from the VIP balcony like a hawk.”
“Let her watch,” Adrian said gently, his fingers pressing reassuringly against my waist. “You look like the most breathtaking woman in this room. Hold your head up, Elena. You belong here.”
Before I could reply, the crowd near the entrance parted, and a sudden murmur rippled through the room.
Walking through the doors, flanked by two corporate lawyers and looking remarkably polished in a dark tux, was Gregory Vance. Beside him walked Richard Sterling, the hostile board member.
My heart plummeted into my stomach.
“How did he get in here?” I gasped, my grip tightening on Adrian’s arm.
“Sterling brought him as his guest,” Adrian said softly, his eyes narrowing as he watched Gregory approach. “A desperate provocation.”
Gregory smiled smoothly as he reached our circle, raising a glass of champagne toward us.
“Good evening, Mr. Kane,” Gregory said, his tone dripping with fake warmth. “And Elena… my goodness. You look quite different from the woman who fled our home in the middle of the night.”
Several high-society onlookers stopped to listen, sensing the dramatic tension.
“Mr. Vance,” Adrian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “You were informed by my legal counsel that entering any venue where Ms. Vance is present constitutes a violation of our civil agreement.”
“Oh, this isn't a social visit, Kane,” Gregory chuckled, pulling a folded legal document from his breast pocket and handing it to Richard Sterling, who proudly stepped forward. “This is a business matter. As minority shareholder of Vance Logistics, I’ve just signed over our proprietary regional freight patents directly to Mr. Sterling’s private holding company. Which means your firm’s Southern supply chain is now completely dependent on my approval.”
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Gregory leaned closer to me, his voice dropping into a malicious whisper.
“You thought you could escape me, Elena?” Gregory smirked. “I own your company’s supply chain now. You give me full joint custody of Mia, or I shut down Kane Global’s Southern distribution network by Monday morning.”
