Chapter 3 - The Crash of Reality
Seraphina walked through the crowd,
her heels clicking against the stone floor like a countdown to a disaster.
She didn't look at the photographers.
She didn't look at the mayors or the CEOs.
Her eyes were fixed on one person:
Grant Holloway.
Grant stood frozen,
his champagne glass shaking in his hand.
Delaney’s grip on his arm tightened until it was painful.
"Grant?"
Delaney hissed.
"Who is that? Why does she look like...?"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Mavis and Brielle had gone pale,
their faces masks of pure,
unadulterated shock.
Seraphina stopped ten feet away from them.
She let the silence stretch,
letting the realization sink into their minds like poison.
"Seraphina?"
Grant finally managed to choke out.
His voice was weak,
a pathetic contrast to the bravado he had shown in the kitchen.
"What are you doing here?"
"How did you get that dress?"
"Did you steal money from the house account?"
He took a step forward,
his face turning a mottled red.
"You are embarrassing me!"
"Get out of here before I have security throw you into the street!"
Seraphina didn't flinch.
She didn't cry.
She simply looked at him with a pity that was more insulting than any scream.
"Security?"
Seraphina asked,
her voice carrying across the silent ballroom.
"Grant, you seem to be confused."
"You don't own this event."
"In fact, you don't even own the chair you're standing next to."
Mavis stepped forward,
her voice trembling with rage.
"You ungrateful little brat!"
"How dare you speak to my son like that?"
"After everything he’s done for you!"
"You are nothing but a common girl who got lucky!"
Seraphina turned her gaze toward her mother-in-law.
"Luck had nothing to do with it, Mavis."
"And as for what Grant has done for me..."
"The only thing he has done is provide a spectacular example of how not to run a business."
The crowd began to whisper.
Grant realized everyone was watching.
He felt the walls closing in.
"Seraphina, stop this nonsense right now!"
he roared,
reaching out to grab her arm.
Before his fingers could touch her silk sleeve,
two massive men in black suits appeared out of the shadows.
They blocked Grant’s path with the efficiency of trained wolves.
"Do not touch the Chairwoman,"
one of them said,
his voice a low growl.
The room gasped in unison.
The word "Chairwoman" rippled through the air like a shockwave.
Grant’s mouth hung open.
"Chairwoman?"
he whispered,
the blood draining from his face.
"No."
"No, that’s not possible."
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"You're just... you're Seraphina."
"You wash the dishes."
