Chapter 12 - THE HOST'S TOAST
Charlotte reached the center of the stage, standing beside the framed American flag that anchored the patriotic gala theme.
The Host handed her a crystal champagne flute filled with vintage sparkling cider, smiling with fatherly pride.
"To the future of American enterprise, and to those who know better than to judge a book by its cover," the Host toasted.
"To absolute truth and unyielding strength," Charlotte added, raising her glass to meet his in a crisp, echoing clink.
The entire ballroom chorused the toast, raising their glasses in unison as cameras flashed blindingly from the press gallery.
In the back of the room, reporters tapped frantically on their smartphones, broadcasting the historic succession across national news networks.
Breaking news banners flashed across television screens from coast to coast: MYSTERIOUS HEIRESS UNMASKED AT MANHATTAN GALA.
The socialite watching the livestream from her downtown apartment dropped her phone in sheer, unadulterated horror.
She had slapped the most powerful young woman in the American corporate landscape over a petty parking space dispute.
Her husband walked through their apartment door five minutes later, tossing his briefcase onto the floor with a hollow thud.
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"We are ruined, Victoria... absolutely, completely ruined," he whispered, staring blankly at the apartment wall.
***
