Chapter 6 - The Gala of Reckoning
The night of the Annual Sinclair Charity Gala arrived,
marking exactly one year since the incident.
The same ballroom,
the same glittering chandeliers,
but a very different atmosphere.
This time,
Leah was not serving the champagne.
She was the guest of honor,
wearing a gown of shimmering silver that looked like moonlight.
The room was packed with the city’s elite,
all of them eager to show their support for the new foundation.
Vanessa Brooks was there too,
though she was no longer a guest.
She had managed to sneak in,
disguised as a member of the waitstaff,
the very position she had once mocked.
Her eyes were wild,
her mind broken by the loss of her social standing.
In her pocket,
she carried a small vial of acid,
a desperate,
insane plan to ruin Leah’s face forever.
Leah stood on the stage,
beside Nathan and Margaret,
ready to give her speech.
"A year ago,"
she began,
her voice clear and resonant,
"I stood in this room and saw how easy it is to be cruel."
"I saw how money can blind us to the value of a human soul."
As she spoke,
she scanned the crowd,
noticing a server who was moving too quickly,
too erratically.
The server was heading straight for the stage.
Leah recognized the eyes behind the mask.
Vanessa.
"Nathan,"
Leah whispered,
stepping back.
But it was too late.
Vanessa lunged forward,
screaming a curse that chilled the blood of everyone present.
She pulled the vial from her pocket,
aiming for Leah.
But Nathan was faster.
He stepped in front of Leah,
his arm raised to protect her.
The liquid splashed across his expensive tuxedo,
but luckily,
the thick fabric absorbed most of it.
Security swarmed Vanessa before she could strike again,
pinning her to the floor.
The ballroom erupted in screams and chaos.
"Nathan!"
Leah cried,
grabbing his arm.
"Are you hurt?"
He looked down at his sleeve,
where the fabric was smoking and dissolving.
"I’m fine,"
he said,
his voice shaking with adrenaline.
"Are you?"
Leah didn't answer with words.
She threw her arms around him,
holding him as if he were her only anchor in a storm.
The cameras captured the moment,
not as a scandal,
May you like
but as a testament to a love that had survived the fire.
***
