Chapter 5 - THE AMALFI TRAPThe night of the annual Metropolitan Medical Gala arrived. It was the premier event of Manhattan high society—the exact place where the Vance family felt invincible.
The grand ballroom was filled with billionaires, politicians, and media moguls. In the center of the room stood Judge Richard Vance, flanked by his wife Eleanor and his prized surgeon son, Arthur. They looked picture-perfect, smiling for photographers, acting as if the rumors surrounding them were nothing more than malicious gossip.
Then, the heavy oak doors swung open.
I walked into the ballroom with Elara on my arm. She was wearing a backless emerald-green silk gown.
The entire room went silent. Whispers broke out like wildfire.
Every single person in that room could see her back. The crisscrossed white scars. The round burn marks. She wasn't hiding them under long sleeves or heavy cloaks anymore. She was wearing her survival like armor.
Eleanor gasped, dropping her champagne glass. It shattered on the marble floor.
Judge Vance’s face turned red with rage as he marched toward us, flanked by two security guards. "How dare you drag your disgusting lies into this hall, Elara! Remove her at once!"
"Touch her," I said softly, stepping forward, "and your entire life ends in sixty seconds, Judge."
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"You have nothing, Marcus!" Judge Vance sneered. "My court orders cleared the SEC charges against you, but I can ruin you by midnight!"
"Check the main monitors, Judge," Elara said quietly.
