Chapter 6 - The Drake Hotel GalaThe Drake Hotel ballroom was a glittering vortex of crystal chandeliers, flowing champagne, and the crème de la crème of Chicago high society. Every elite family, politician, and media mogul was in attendance, whispering behind gloved hands and designer lapels.
The rumor mill had been spinning at lightspeed all afternoon: Grant Calloway divorced his socialite wife overnight, ruined his former brother-in-law, and was debuting a mysterious new woman at the annual charity gala.
When the grand double doors swung open and Grant Calloway stepped inside, the entire room went dead silent.
He was wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders to perfection. But it wasn't Grant who captured every single pair of eyes in the room—it was the woman walking on his arm.
I wore a floor-length, backless emerald-silk gown that Grant’s private stylists had rushed to the mansion that afternoon. My hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, and a simple diamond-and-emerald pendant rested gracefully against the collarbone where Vivian’s cruel handprint had faded just days ago.
I felt like Cinderella stepping into a world I didn't belong to. But as Grant’s hand rested firmly and protectively against the small of my back, guiding me through the sea of staring faces, I felt invincible.
“Don’t look at them,” Grant murmured softly near my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Look at me. You belong here, Nora.”
Flashbulbs popped blindingly from the press pit near the stage. Microphones thrust forward.
“Mr. Calloway! Mr. Calloway! Who is your companion? Is it true you ousted Vivian Calloway for her?” shouted a prominent financial journalist.
Grant stopped walking. He didn't pull me away or hide me from the cameras. Instead, he pulled me closer, wrapping his arm securely around my waist, lifting his chin with absolute authority.
“This is Nora Lane,” Grant’s deep, resonant voice echoed effortlessly across the grand ballroom, carrying through the microphone systems. “She is the Director of the Calloway Family Foundation, the heart of my home, and the most extraordinary woman in Chicago. Anyone who disrespects her, disrespects me.”
Gasps rippled through the elite crowd. Headlines were being written in real-time across a thousand smartphone screens.
We took our seats at the primary head table, surrounded by powerful oligarchs who suddenly fell over themselves to smile, nod, and toast in our direction. But midway through the dinner, as Grant excused himself briefly to take a secure encrypted call from his private security chief, a figure slipped out from the shadows of the ballroom columns.
It was Eleanor Vance—Vivian’s mother, and the matriarch of old Chicago wealth. Her eyes were filled with venomous hatred.
“You think you’ve won, you little foster-home parasite?” Eleanor hissed quietly, leaning over our table. “Grant only keeps you around because he’s grateful. But a street rat will always remain a street rat. He’ll grow tired of your cheap background before the year is out.”
My blood ran cold for a second, but then the memory of Lily’s tear-stained face and Grant’s fierce protection flooded my mind. I didn't cower. I stood up slowly from my chair, looking down at the older, bitter woman with absolute calm.
“Mrs. Vance,” I said, my voice clear and cutting through the surrounding chatter. “You might want to check your bank accounts before you talk about cheap backgrounds. Because your son-in-law didn't just bankrupt your son—he bought your family estate this morning. You’re standing in a room full of people who are laughing at you, not with you.”
Eleanor’s face turned the color of ash. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
May you like
From behind her, a cold, dark voice finished the sentence.
“She speaks for me, Eleanor,” Grant said, returning silently to the table, his hand sliding back around my waist with possessive finality. His gray eyes burned into the older woman. “And if you ever speak to Nora like that again, I’ll make sure your family name is completely erased from every history book in Illinois.”
