Chapter 4 - THE GALA LIONS
Inside the ballroom,
the air was thick with the ego of the city’s elite.
Spencer was standing near the stage,
holding a glass of scotch and laughing at something a senator had said.
Paisley was clinging to his arm,
her champagne dress glowing under the chandeliers.
She was playing the part of the devoted partner,
her eyes scanning the room for anyone she could impress.
They were the picture of a power couple,
or so they thought.
Spencer felt the shift in the room before he saw us.
The laughter died down,
the conversations hushed.
One by one,
the guests turned toward the entrance.
Raymond Harrell didn't attend many galas,
so his presence was an event in itself.
But it was the woman beside him that had everyone whispering.
“Who is she?”
“Is that a new mistress?”
“No, she looks too much like him.”
Spencer turned around,
his boardroom smile still plastered on his face.
When his eyes landed on me,
his glass slipped from his fingers.
The sound of shattering crystal echoed through the silent room.
Scotch splashed across his expensive shoes,
but he didn't even blink.
He stared at me,
his mouth hanging open in shock.
He recognized the face,
but he couldn't reconcile it with the woman he had left at home.
“Phoebe?”
he whispered,
his voice barely audible.
Paisley followed his gaze,
her eyes widening as she took in my dress and the Harrell Heart.
Her face turned a sickly shade of white.
I didn't look at them.
I kept my gaze fixed ahead,
walking with my father toward the center of the room.
The CEO of the Apex Group,
Marcus Thorne,
rushed forward to greet us.
“Raymond! What a surprise!”
“And this must be the famous Phoebe.”
“It’s been far too long,”
Marcus said,
taking my hand and kissing it.
The room erupted in a fresh wave of whispers.
The 'famous' Phoebe?
Spencer’s heart was hammering against his ribs.
He moved toward us,
his movements jerky and uncoordinated.
“Phoebe? What are you doing here?”
“And why are you with... Mr. Harrell?”
I turned to him then,
my expression one of cool,
polite indifference.
“Hello, Spencer.”
“I decided I didn't want to stay home after all.”
My father stepped forward,
his presence like a physical weight.
“And you must be Spencer Conway.”
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Mostly regarding your company’s precarious financial situation.”
Spencer looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole.
“Financial... situation?”
“I believe we have a meeting scheduled for Monday, Spencer,”
Raymond continued,
his voice smooth as silk.
“But since we're all here,
maybe we should discuss your debt now?”
The surrounding guests leaned in,
hungry for the drama.
Spencer looked at me,
his eyes pleading.
“Phoebe, can we talk? In private?”
“I don't think so, Spencer,”
I said,
my voice carrying to the edge of the circle.
May you like
“I think Paisley was right.”
“Tonight is far too important for secrets.”
