Chapter 5 - The Gala of Wolves
Two weeks later, the annual Blue Ridge Benefactors Gala took place at the Grand Bohemian Hotel in Charlotte.
It was the premier social event of the year for the North Carolina elite—the place where old money, new tech fortunes, and political kingpins gathered to display their relevance.
Marlene and Brielle had spent their last remaining credit line renting designer dresses and securing entry passes through an old family connection. They had not accepted defeat. In Marlene’s twisted mind, this gala was their salvation. If Brielle could attract the attention of Julian Vance—the billionaire hedge-fund heir and Silas Rowe’s primary corporate rival—they could secure an emergency capital infusion to fight the lawsuits.
Brielle stood near the champagne fountain, wearing an electric-blue gown that was slightly too tight. Her smile was brittle, her eyes darting anxiously around the ballroom.
“Mom,” Brielle hissed, sipping cheap prosecco disguised in a crystal flute. “People are whispering. Look at Mrs. Kensington. She didn't even say hello to us!”
Marlene adjusted her heavy diamond paste necklace—the real stones had already been seized by the sheriff. “Ignore them! Once Julian Vance arrives, we tell him what that brute Silas Rowe is doing. Silas is trying to muscle into Vance’s logistics sector. Julian will gladly fund our legal defense just to humiliate Rowe!”
Just then, the murmurs in the ballroom shifted from quiet chatter to an electric hush.
The heavy oak doors of the grand ballroom swung wide. The brass heralds did not announce the arrivals, but the room parted naturally, guests stepping back as if cleared by an invisible wave.
Walking through the entrance was Silas Rowe.
He was dressed in an impeccably tailored Tom Ford tuxedo in midnight blue, his posture commanding and magnificent. Beside him, with her hand resting lightly on his arm, was me.
I wore a floor-length emerald silk gown that swept the marble floor, open at the back, with diamond-and-emerald drop earrings that had once belonged to the Duchess of Windsor—purchased at auction by Silas three days prior in London. My hair was swept into an intricate updo, exposing the diamond necklace resting against my collarbone.
Every eye in the room locked onto us.
Brielle gasped, her champagne glass slipping from her fingers and shattering against the parquet floor. “Tessa...?!”
Marlene choked on her drink, her face turning a mottled shade of scarlet. “What... what is she wearing?! That dress costs more than our house!”
Whispers exploded across the room like wildfire:
*“Is that Tessa Langford?”*
*“Good heavens, she looks like an empress!”*
*“Who is the man beside her? Isn't that Silas Rowe? The recluse billionaire?”*
*“I thought Marlene said she was married off to a mountain laborer!”*
Silas didn't look at the crowd. He leaned down, whispering softly against my ear: “Heads are turning, Mrs. Rowe. Keep your chin up. Let them see who won.”
I smiled back at him, feeling the warmth of his presence wrapping around me like a shield.
Suddenly, a tall, arrogant man with slicked-back blonde hair pushed his way through the crowd, holding a glass of bourbon. It was Julian Vance, accompanied by two bodyguards.
Julian looked Silas up and down, then let his predatory gaze wander over me.
“Well, well,” Julian sneered, his voice loud enough to carry across the quieted ballroom. “The phantom of Pisgah finally leaves his cave. Silas Rowe, playing dress-up. And who is the escort, Silas? Did you rent her for the evening to prove you still have a pulse?”
Before Silas could move, I took a half-step forward. My voice was calm, melodic, and carried with unmistakable authority.
May you like
“Mr. Julian Vance,” I said, meeting his insolent eyes without blinking. “I am Tessa Rowe. And given that my husband and I purchased forty-one percent of your firm’s senior debt tranche this morning from Deutsche Bank, I suggest you mind your manners. You work for us now.”
***
