Chapter 8 - The Gala of Ruin
Three months passed. The girls were growing, thriving in the warmth and security of my family’s home. I was healing, both physically and mentally.
The Vanguard Foundation was hosting its annual charity gala at the Museum of Modern Art. It was the social event of the season, and it was my official reentry into society.
I wore a stunning sapphire gown, standing at the top of the marble staircase next to my father, greeting the elite of the city.
And then, I saw him.
Julian had somehow snuck into the gala, likely slipping past security through the service entrance. He looked disheveled, his suit wrinkled, his eyes wild and desperate. He was looking for me.
He spotted me on the stairs and began pushing his way through the crowd of billionaires and politicians.
"Clara!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the cavernous hall. "Clara, please!"
The music stopped. The entire room turned to stare at the madman disrupting the event.
My father’s security team immediately moved to intercept him, but I raised my hand, stopping them.
I walked slowly down the marble stairs, the crowd parting for me like the Red Sea.
Julian fell to his knees when I reached him.
"Clara, I'm sorry," he sobbed in front of hundreds of people. "I was an idiot. I was arrogant. But I'm the father of your children. Please, call off the lawyers. The FBI is investigating me for the embezzlement. I’m going to prison. You have to save me."
I looked down at the man who had stood in my hospital room and told me I was too ugly to be loved.
"You wanted a public new beginning, Julian," I said, my voice echoing clearly in the silent hall. "Well. Here it is."
I looked at the head of security. "Remove this trespasser."
May you like
Two massive guards grabbed Julian by the arms and dragged him backward out of the museum. He screamed my name, but the heavy oak doors shut, cutting off his pathetic cries.
The orchestra resumed playing. I smiled, took a sip of champagne, and walked back up the stairs.
