Chapter 3 - The Gala at the Drake
The Grand Ballroom of The Drake Hotel was packed with Chicago’s political elite, corrupt judges, billionaire investors, and underworld bosses.
Henry Russo stood near the champagne fountain, looking weary, sharp, and visibly stressed.
At thirty-four, Henry was still dangerously handsome—broad-shouldered, dark-haired, with piercing amber eyes. But the five years had not been kind to him. Dark circles bruised his eyes, his expensive tuxedo looked slightly worn at the cuffs, and his hands shook slightly as he downed a double whiskey.
The Russo empire was collapsing.
Federal indictments were landing every week, his rivals were taking his territory, and he was being squeezed out of every legal market in the Midwest. His only salvation was securing the $2 billion Lakefront Contract from Vance Global.
"Is the global CEO here yet?" Henry demanded, turning to his loyal enforcer, Vincent.
Vincent, older and nervous, checked his watch. "Her motorcade just arrived outside, boss. They say she’s guarded by twenty elite private security operators. Nobody knows her identity—she operates through shell companies out of Zurich and London."
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany doors of the ballroom swung open.
The chatter in the room died instantly.
A squad of eight six-foot-four security guards in dark suits moved into the room, creating a secure clearing. Through the middle walked Victor Vance, followed by Dante.
And beside Victor walked a woman who stopped every heart in the room.
Sophie stepped into the crystal light of the chandeliers. Her emerald-green suit glittered, her poise commanding total submission. She moved with effortless power, every billionaire in the room bowing their heads as she passed.
Henry dropped his glass of whiskey.
The glass shattered on the marble floor, amber liquid splashing across his leather shoes.
His face turned as white as snow. His eyes widened in utter, paralyzing shock.
"S-Sophie...?" Henry gasped, his voice barely a wheeze.
Vincent stepped back, his jaw dropping. "Boss... that’s... that’s impossible. She died in the storm five years ago!"
Sophie did not look at him immediately. She walked straight to the VIP stage, taking a glass of sparkling water from a silver tray held by a butler.
Henry pushed through the crowd of senators and executives like a madman, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.
"Sophie!" Henry shouted, stepping onto the perimeter of her security circle. "Sophie! Is that you?!"
Dante instantly stepped in front of Henry, placing a hand the size of a dinner plate against Henry’s chest, halting him in his tracks.
"Step back, Mr. Russo," Dante warned, his voice like grinding stones. "You are addressing the Global Chief Executive Officer of Vance Global Enterprises, Victoria Vance."
Henry stared past Dante, his eyes locked on her face. "Victoria...? No! No, your name is Sophie Banner! You worked in my house! You... you were my maid!"
Sophie slowly turned her head.
Her eyes met his.
There was no fear in them. No hurt. No longing.
May you like
There was only a cold, infinite void of absolute contempt.
"Mr. Russo," Sophie spoke, her voice smooth, melodious, and resonating clearly through the silent room. "You are causing a scene. Security, please keep the common beggars off the stage."
