Chapter 3 - The Wolves at the Table
The news of Ashley’s pregnancy hit the media like a tidal wave by the next evening. But the narrative had been twisted beautifully by Derek’s public relations team: “High-Profile Lawyer Drives Traumatized Husband into the Arms of Best Friend, Now Seeks Revenge.”
They were trying to ruin my reputation before I could even file the divorce papers.
“Let them play their little media games,” I said, adjusting the diamond necklace around my throat. I was standing in the mirror of a luxury suite at the Plaza Hotel, wearing a backless emerald silk gown that Dominic had delivered to my room that afternoon.
Tonight was the annual Manhattan Benefactors Gala. Every billionaire, politician, and criminal elite would be in the room. And according to Dominic’s intelligence, Derek and Ashley had used their stolen money to buy a table, hoping to legitimize their new status.
“You look beautiful, Scarlett,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
Dominic stood there, looking devastatingly handsome in a bespoke black tuxedo. He walked into the room, his eyes scanning me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, flawless emerald ring, sliding it onto my right index finger.
“A token of our new partnership,” he murmured, his thumb lingering on my skin. “Tonight, we don't just defend. We conquer.”
When we arrived at the gala, the ballroom fell completely silent. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Dominic Rossi walked in—but the real gasp came when they saw his arm linked with mine. The media photographers went into a frenzy, flashes blinding us as we walked down the grand staircase.
Right at the center table sat Derek and Ashley.
Derek looked like he had aged ten years overnight. His eyes were wide with panic the moment he saw me with Dominic. Ashley, wearing a loose-fitting white dress to subtly highlight her supposed pregnancy, clutched Derek’s arm so tightly her fake nails were digging into his suit.
Dominic led me directly to their table. He didn't wait for an invitation. He pulled out a chair for me right opposite them, then sat down beside me, exuding a casual, terrifying dominance.
“Scarlett,” Derek stammered, his face turning pale. “What... what is the meaning of this? Who is this man?”
“This is my employer, Derek,” I said smoothly, resting my hands on the table, the emerald ring catching the light. “And my co-counsel for our upcoming divorce proceedings.”
Ashley tried to find her courage, glaring at me with venomous eyes. “You think you can scare us, Scarlett? I talked to the feds. They know you're associating with criminals now. The court will give Derek everything. The apartment, your savings, your share of the firm. You're finished.”
Dominic leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The sheer aura of danger radiating from him made the other guests at the table quickly stand up and abandon their seats.
“Miss Lindsay,” Dominic said, his voice a low purr that sent a visible tremor through Ashley. “You mistake a snake's hiss for a dragon's roar. You think the FBI cares about your pregnant belly? They care about the three million dollars that was wired into your Cayman account yesterday from a sanctioned Russian bank. An account that my associate just seized ten minutes ago.”
Ashley’s eyes went completely round. “What? No... that’s impossible.”
Derek looked at her, his voice rising in panic. “Ashley? What is he talking about? What bank?”
“He’s talking about the fact that your new girlfriend just sold you out to the Russians, Derek,” I said, leaning in with a cold, triumphant smile. “She used your debt to get herself a payout. You aren't her partner. You were her golden ticket. And now, the ticket is canceled.”
Before Derek could respond, the massive crystal chandelier above the ballroom suddenly shattered.
BANG!
A deafening gunshot echoed through the hall. Screams erupted instantly as the crowd scrambled for the exits. Dominic reacted before the sound even registered in my brain. He lunged across the table, tackling me to the marble floor as another bullet ripped through the back of my chair.
“Get down!” Dominic roared, pulling a concealed Glock from his jacket.
Through the chaos, I looked up and saw a man in a waiter's uniform aiming a rifle straight at Dominic from the mezzanine balcony. But as he fired a third time, the bullet missed, striking the table right next to Derek’s hand.
Dominic fired back twice, his shots precise and deadly. The assassin fell over the balcony railing, crashing into the empty buffet table below.
Amidst the screaming and running crowd, I noticed something dropped by the waiter's body near the stage—a unique, silver burner phone that was flashing with an incoming call.
I broke away from Dominic’s grip, crawling through the shattered glass, and grabbed the phone just before it went dark. The caller ID displayed a single name that made my blood run cold:
May you like
DEREK.
I looked back through the smoke and chaos. Derek and Ashley were gone. They had used the shooting to escape—and my husband had just tried to have us both murdered.
