Chapter 7 - The Crimson Gala – She Wore Her Enemy’s Blood Red Dress
The annual High-Society Metropolitan Gala went ahead as scheduled, but the atmosphere inside the grand ballroom was suffocating. Gossip buzzed like a hive of hornets. The Rossi family's legal representatives had managed to secure a emergency temporary bail for Isabella just two hours prior, using their remaining hidden offshore funds, believing that showing her in public would prove her innocence before trial.
Isabella stepped onto the red carpet, pale but dressed in a sharp white gown meant to symbolize purity and innocence. Her father stood beside her, flashing artificial confidence to the flashing cameras.
Suddenly, the massive double doors of the ballroom slammed open.
The room went dead silent.
Khloe entered. She was not in a hospital gown. She was not on a gurney. She walked with regal, unyielding poise, wearing a breathtaking, floor-length crimson silk gown—the exact shade and style Isabella had worn the night of the attack. Beside her stood Marcus, tall, dangerous, and imposing, along with Arthur Vance and a flank of armed security officers.
Isabella took a step back, her breath catching in her throat. “What… what is she doing here?”
Khloe walked straight past the high-society elites, her heels echoing against the marble floor until she stood just three feet from Isabella.
“You look nervous, Isabella,” Khloe said softly, her voice carrying through the silent hall. “Red was your color last night. I thought I’d wear it tonight… to celebrate your final hours of freedom.”
“You can’t intimidate me!” Isabella screeched, her composure shattering under the pressure. “The court will decide! You have no proof of poisoning!”
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“We don't need a court to ruin you in front of your peers,” Marcus stepped forward, snapping his fingers.
The giant projection screens behind the main stage flashed to life, displaying a recorded phone conversation from two hours ago between Isabella and her insider accomplice.
