Chapter 1 - The First Shudder of Reality
The laughter in the grand ballroom of Hudson Yards was still ringing in Evelyn Hart’s ears, echoing off the imported crystal chandeliers and bouncing against the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering Manhattan skyline. Patricia, her mother-in-law, was holding her stomach, tears of mirth leaking from her mascara-rimmed eyes. Everett, his chest puffed out with the arrogant pride of a man who genuinely believed he ruled Wall Street, pulled Madison closer, resting his hand familiarly on the small of her back.
"An absolute delusion," Everett scoffed, shaking his head as he stepped over his discarded wedding ring. "Ten years married to you, Evelyn, and I never realized you were delusional enough to think you owned Blackstone Crest Holdings. You were a secretary when I met you—a nobody from a working-class suburb. If I hadn’t plucked you out of obscurity, you’d still be typing memos for minimum wage."
The surrounding socialites, CEOs, and hedge-fund managers chuckled along, eager to curry favor with the rising star of Blackstone Crest. Madison smirked, smoothing the front of her wine-stained dress—which, ironically, Evelyn’s own corporate account had inadvertently funded three days prior.
"Some people just can't handle losing their meal ticket," Madison purred, her voice dripping with calculated sweetness. "Everett, darling, call security again. The stench of her desperation is ruining the canapés."
Evelyn didn’t flinch. She didn’t scream, nor did she burst into tears as they expected her to. Instead, she reached into her clutch, pulled out a Cartier platinum card, and tossed it onto the marble floor right beside the wedding ring. It slid a few inches, catching the cold halogen light.
"Keep the card, Everett," Evelyn said softly, her voice cutting through the ambient chatter like a surgeon's scalpel. "You're going to need it to pay for your Uber home in about twenty-five minutes."
Before Everett could formulate a scathing retort, his custom-tailored Tom Ford suit vibrated sharply against his thigh. It wasn’t a standard notification ping; it was the high-priority, encrypted alert tone reserved exclusively for internal corporate emergencies at Blackstone Crest Holdings.
Everett frowned, pulling the phone from his pocket. The screen flashed a bright crimson warning: System Alert: Executive Override Initiated.
"What is this nonsense..." Everett muttered, swiping his thumb across the glass.
May you like
Across the room, standing near the towering floral arrangements, Jonathan Vance—the senior vice president of acquisitions and one of Everett’s most sycophantic allies—suddenly went completely pale. Jonathan’s phone had also begun to buzz furiously, followed immediately by the phones of at least a dozen other senior executives attending the gala.
"Everett..." Jonathan breathed out, his voice trembling as he stared at his display. "Everett, look at your corporate terminal. Now."
