Chapter 6 - The Exit of the Fallen
Before Madison could drop the ring or scream in outrage, the two Apex security guards stepped in. Without a single word of warning, they grabbed both Everett and Madison by their upper arms, lifting them off their feet with effortless physical strength.
"Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am?!" Madison shrieked, kicking her stiletto heels uselessly in the air as she was hauled backward toward the grand exit.
"Let me go! This is kidnapping! This is assault!" Everett roared, flailing wildly, his expensive hair disheveled, his dignity shredded into microscopic pieces.
Patricia tried to charge at Evelyn like an enraged goose, screaming obscenities, but Arthur Pendelton gracefully stepped into her path, casually extending a single arm to block her advance while motioning for a third security guard to escort her out as well.
"Madam Vance, your car service has also been canceled," Arthur noted politely. "However, there is a very reliable subway station just two blocks down on 34th Street. I recommend purchasing a MetroCard before midnight—prices go up tomorrow."
"You monster! You cold-hearted bitch!" Patricia wailed as she was physically steered toward the exit, her heavy fur coat dragging behind her on the floor. "You’ll pay for this! We’ll sue you! We’ll—"
The heavy oak doors of the ballroom swung open, swallowing their shrieks, and then slammed shut with a heavy, final thud.
The silence inside the ballroom returned, thicker and heavier than before. Hundreds of pairs of eyes slowly shifted away from the double doors and locked onto Evelyn Hart. Gone were the condescending whispers, the pitying glances, and the mocking laughter. In their place was a profound, suffocating terror.
Evelyn calmly smoothed down the front of her black silk gown, unaffected by the wine stain that now dried into a dark crimson patch across her bodice. To her, it no longer looked like a mark of humiliation; it looked like a badge of war.
She turned to face the crowd. The socialites, CEOs, and industry titans who had spent years ignoring her existence or treating her as Everett’s accessory suddenly found their shoes exceptionally interesting, desperately avoiding eye contact as she scanned the room.
Jonathan Vance, sweating profusely, took three steps backward, praying to disappear into the woodwork.
"Jonathan," Evelyn’s voice rang out, clear and calm.
Jonathan froze mid-step, his body instantly stiffening as if struck by lightning. He slowly turned around, forcing a trembling, hyper-polished corporate smile onto his face. "Y-yes, Mrs. Hart? How... how can I assist you?"
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"Your division’s quarterly audit is due on my desk tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM," Evelyn said, walking past him slowly, her heels clicking like a metronome of doom. "Don't be late. I have zero tolerance for incompetence. Especially from people who don't know which side of history they're on."
"Y-yes, ma'am! Absolutely, ma'am!" Jonathan stammered, bowing his head so low his nose nearly touched his bowtie.
