Chapter 5 - THE APEX GALA
The entrance to the gala was a sea of flashing lights and red carpet.
Paparazzi lined the sidewalk,
screaming names of celebrities and billionaires.
When our car pulled up,
the noise seemed to dim for a second.
People were trying to figure out who was in the black sedan.
Ethan stepped out first,
buttoning his jacket with a slow,
deliberate grace.
Then,
he reached back and took my hand.
As I stepped onto the carpet in the emerald gown,
the cameras went wild.
I could hear the whispers starting.
"Who is she?"
"Is that a Whitaker?"
"Look at that dress!"
We walked into the grand ballroom of the Pierre Hotel,
a space dripping in gold and crystal.
Instantly,
I spotted them.
My father,
Elaine,
Savannah,
and Preston were standing near the center of the room.
They were surrounded by minor Dallas socialites,
trying their best to look like they belonged.
Savannah saw me first.
Her glass of champagne nearly slipped from her fingers.
Her face went from shock to pure,
unadulterated rage in a heartbeat.
"Madison?"
she hissed,
marching over to us.
My father and Elaine followed,
their expressions masks of disbelief.
"What are you doing here?"
Richard demanded,
his face turning a dangerous shade of red.
"How did you even get past security?"
Ethan didn't flinch.
He stood beside me,
his hand resting protectively on the small of my back.
"We were invited,
Richard,"
Ethan said,
his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
"Don't lie,"
Savannah spat,
glancing at Ethan's tuxedo.
"You probably stole that suit,
you pathetic guard."
"And Maddie,
that dress... you must have sold your soul for it."
Preston laughed,
stepping forward to join the attack.
"I hope you didn't park your bike on the red carpet,
Vale."
"The valet might mistake it for trash."
A small crowd began to gather,
sensing the drama.
I felt the old familiar sting of shame,
but then I remembered Ethan's lessons.
I looked Preston directly in the eye.
"At least my husband didn't need his father's permission to attend,"
I said,
my voice steady and clear.
The surrounding guests gasped.
Preston's face flushed.
"You little—"
"That's enough,"
Ethan interrupted,
his voice dropping to a tone that made everyone in the circle go cold.
"You should be careful how you speak to my wife."
"Or what?"
Richard challenged.
"You'll tackle us?"
"You're a nobody,
Vale."
"A peasant we let into our home out of pity."
Just then,
the master of ceremonies stepped onto the stage.
The room went quiet.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"
the man announced.
"Please welcome our host for the evening."
"The man who made tonight possible."
"The CEO of Vale International and the primary benefactor of the Apex Foundation."
Everyone turned toward the stage,
expecting someone old and gray.
Ethan squeezed my hand.
"I'll be right back,"
he whispered.
He stepped away from me and walked toward the stage.
The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea.
The silence that followed was so heavy it felt like it might crush the room.
Ethan walked up the stairs,
took the microphone,
and looked out over the elite of America.
"Good evening,"
he said,
his voice booming through the speakers.
May you like
"I am Ethan Vale."
"And I'd like to thank you all for coming."
