Chapter 3 - The Ghost at the Gala
The Apex Group gala was held in the grand ballroom of the Pierre Hotel.
It was the social event of the decade.
Every influential person in the city was there,
sipping vintage champagne and trading secrets.
Spencer Reed was in his element,
standing in the center of the room with Paisley on his arm.
He was talking to a group of investors,
his voice loud and confident.
"I’m looking to expand the Reed Group's reach,"
he said,
flashing his perfect smile.
"We just need the right backing."
Paisley laughed,
leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Spencer is the most brilliant man here,"
she chirped.
"Anyone would be lucky to partner with him."
Then,
the music stopped.
The massive gold doors at the entrance swung open.
The herald didn't announce a name at first.
The silence spread through the room like a cold front.
A man walked in first,
his presence commanding the attention of every senator and CEO in the room.
Raymond Harrell.
A murmur erupted.
"Is that Harrell?"
"He hasn't been to a public event in three years!"
But he wasn't the reason the room went silent.
He turned and offered his arm to the woman behind him.
I stepped into the light,
the sapphires on my dress catching the chandeliers.
I walked with my head held high,
every step measured and graceful.
I saw Spencer out of the corner of my eye.
He was frozen,
his champagne glass halfway to his lips.
Paisley’s mouth was open,
her eyes wide with confusion.
They didn't recognize me at first.
All they saw was a woman who looked like she owned the hotel.
We walked past the tables of shocked socialites.
We walked past the investors Spencer had been trying to impress.
We headed straight for the head table,
where the Mayor and the Chairman were sitting.
"Raymond!"
the Chairman stood up,
his face beaming.
"We didn't think you’d make it."
"I wouldn't miss it,"
my father said,
his voice booming.
"Especially not when my daughter is finally back by my side."
The room gasped in unison.
"Daughter?"
Spencer whispered,
his face turning a ghostly shade of white.
The glass in his hand slipped,
May you like
shattering on the floor.
The sound of the breaking glass was the only noise in the room.
