Chapter 15 - The Trap at the Gala
Two nights later, the Metropolitan Museum of Art was bathed in amber floodlights for the annual Vance Heritage Foundation Gala.
The event had been planned six months prior, and skipping it would have signaled panic to the Wall Street investors circling Vance Global like vultures.
Elara stepped out of the black limousine, looking breathtaking in an emerald-green silk gown.
Her head was held high, her spine straight, hiding the terror that had kept her awake for three straight nights.
Julian stood beside her, clad in a sharp black tuxedo, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back.
Camera flashes exploded like lightning, blinding the red carpet as reporters shouted over the velvet ropes.
"Mr. Vance! Is it true your mother has filed for an injunction against the family trust?"
"Mrs. Vance! Are the rumors about the paternity contest true?"
Elara did not flinch, looking directly into the camera lenses with cold, regal poise.
"Our daughter Maya is a Vance by blood, love, and law," Elara said clearly, her voice cutting through the clamor. "No amount of slander from disgraced family members will change that."
Julian looked down at his wife, pride burning fiercely through his anxiety.
They entered the grand hall under the towering marble arches, the room buzzing with Manhattan's elite.
As they took the center stage near the auction podium, the double doors at the back of the ballroom swung wide open.
A sudden, chilling hush descended upon the hundred-plus guests.
Walking down the grand staircase was Victoria Vance herself, draped in an exquisite silver evening gown, flanked by Marcus and three high-powered defense attorneys.
She looked entirely unbothered by her exile, her posture pristine, her diamond necklace catching the chandelier light.
Her eyes locked onto Julian and Elara across the sea of frozen billionaires.
"Good evening, darling," Victoria’s voice carried effortlessly across the silent room.
Elara’s fingers tightened on Julian’s forearm, but Julian took a step forward, placing himself between his mother and his wife.
The guests parted like the Red Sea, terrified of the catastrophic storm brewing between mother and son.
"You are trespassing on private foundation grounds, Victoria," Julian said, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
"A mother cannot trespass where her own name is engraved upon the walls," Victoria replied, offering a cold, venomous smile.
She stopped five feet from them, her gaze sweeping down to Elara’s emerald gown with pure, distilled disdain.
"You dressed up a commoner, Julian, but you cannot hide what she is," Victoria sneered softly.
"I warned you what would happen if you ever approached my family again," Julian said, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles popped.
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"Did you really think a few restraining orders could erase thirty years of power?" Victoria whispered, stepping closer. "Tonight, my son, you lose everything."
***
