Chapter 5 - The Grand Gala
The Grand Plaza Ballroom was ablaze with crystal chandeliers, champagne fountains, and the high-society elite of the city.
Caleb stood near the bar, holding a whiskey glass. He looked pale, dark circles under his eyes, but he was wearing his best tuxedo, trying desperately to smile and network. His financial backing was crumbling, but he was telling anyone who would listen that the Wren Harbor project was simply undergoing a minor restructuring.
His parents were nearby, along with Mireia's mother and father, who looked nervous, constantly checking their phones.
"She’s ruined everything," Mireia's mother hissed, sipping her wine. "If Mireia doesn't come back and smooth things over with Mr. Villano, our reputation in this city is done!"
"She'll come back," Caleb muttered, though his hands were shaking. "Mireia always comes back. She doesn't have the spine to stay away. She’s probably sitting in some hotel crying right now."
Suddenly, the double doors at the entrance of the ballroom swung open.
The room fell silent.
A heavy, suffocating silence swept through the high-society crowd as security guards clad in black suits lined the pathway.
Then, she stepped inside.
Mireia Dalton looked breathtaking.
She wore a backless, emerald-green silk gown that clung to her curves like liquid fire. Her dark hair was swept up, exposing her long neck and the glittering, restored silver pendant resting prominently against her collarbone. She didn't look small. She didn't look delicate. She looked like royalty.
And walking beside her, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back, was Darius Villano.
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Caleb dropped his glass. It shattered on the marble floor, spraying whiskey and glass across his polished shoes.
"M-Mireia?" Caleb whispered, his voice cracking.
Mireia walked through the crowd, her head held high, her eyes fixed entirely on Caleb. Darius walked with her, his presence imposing enough to make the surrounding crowd step back in respect and fear.
Mireia's parents rushed forward. "Mireia! What is the meaning of this?! Why are you with Mr. Villano?!" her father demanded, his voice hushed and panicked.
Mireia didn't even look at her father. She stopped three feet away from Caleb.
"Caleb," Mireia said, her voice clear, carrying across the silent ballroom. "I brought you something."
She reached into her small clutch and pulled out a stack of legal documents, tossing them directly onto Caleb’s chest. They scattered across his suit and hit the floor.
"Those are formal freeze orders from the State Attorney's office," Mireia said calmly. "For grand larceny, fraud, and illegal embezzlement of my trust fund."
The crowd murmured in shock. Whispers broke out like wildfire.
Caleb’s face turned gray. "You... you're lying! You can't prove that!"
"She doesn't need to," Darius's deep voice boomed, cutting through the hall like a hammer. "My legal team submitted the paper trail two hours ago. Every account tied to Wren Harbor is seized. Every asset you hold is frozen."
Caleb fell back against the bar, gasping for air. "Mireia... please... we were together for six years!"
"And for six years," Mireia said, stepping right up to his face, "you made me feel like I was nothing. You told me I was difficult. You told me I was emotional. But the truth is, Caleb... you were just weak."
She turned her back on him completely, looking at Darius.
Darius smiled—a rare, devastatingly handsome smirk—and offered her his arm.
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"Shall we dance, Miss Dalton?" he asked softly.
"I’d love to," Mireia replied.
