Chapter 14 - The Ambush at the Gala
Instead of cowering behind locked gates, Ivy chose the offensive. Two weeks later, the annual St. Jude Children’s Charity Gala—the most prestigious social and civic event in the region—convened at the historic Grand Paxton Hotel in the county capital.
The room was a sea of crystal chandeliers, silk tuxedos, and diamond necklaces. Every civic leader, judge, bank director, and real estate magnate who had known Eleanor Caldwell was in attendance.
Julian Vance and Claire had purchased the premier patron table directly adjacent to the dais. Claire sat like an empress in an emerald velvet backless gown, Julian at her side in an imported Brioni tuxedo. They were entertaining county commissioners, openly distributing brochures for the “Meadowgate Grand Resort & Spa”—a planned $50 million redevelopment that envisioned bulldozing Eleanor’s century-old botanical gardens into a golf course and luxury villas.
“It’s a magnificent vision,” Claire was purring to Commissioner Harrison. “Ivy, bless her heart, is simply overwhelmed by the upkeep. Julian’s corporation is stepping in to relieve her of the burden. It’s what Grandmother would have wanted.”
“Is that what Grandmother would have wanted, Claire?”
The voice cut through the chatter like a glass blade.
The circle of socialites parted. Ivy walked into the clearing. She was stunning, not with Claire’s flashy, borrowed glamour, but with a regal, untouchable elegance. She wore a tailored black evening suit of Italian silk, a vintage gold choker that Eleanor had worn to her own diamond anniversary, and hair swept up in an architectural twist.
Beside her walked two men whom Julian Vance recognized instantly—and whose presence caused Julian’s wine glass to freeze halfway to his lips.
One was Alan Sterling, the chief regional enforcement attorney for the Securities and Exchange Commission. The other was Howard Price, the managing director of Midwest Commercial Credit.
“Ivy,” Julian said smoothly, standing and adjusting his cuffs, though a slight tension tightened around his jaw. “I didn't expect you to join us. I would have offered to cover your ticket.”
“I don't need you to cover my ticket, Julian,” Ivy said, her voice resonant enough that conversation at three adjoining tables ground to a halt. “Just like Meadowgate never needed your fictitious $4.8 million bridge loan.”
Claire scowled, setting her champagne flute down with a hard clatter. “Ivy, don’t cause a scene here. You’re embarrassing yourself. Julian holds the master note!”
“Julian holds a fraudulent document,” Ivy replied, her eyes pinning Julian to the spot. “And you, Claire, were stupid enough to let him use you to deliver it.”
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Julian’s smile vanished. “Ms. Caldwell, slander in a room of this caliber is an expensive mistake.”
“It isn't slander when the federal bank examiner has the certified forensic ledger in his briefcase,” Ivy announced, her hand signaling Alan Sterling.
