Chapter 4 - The Scramble for the ExitsPanic hit the ballroom like a tidal wave.
Realizing that Dominic’s empire was built on quicksand—and that association with him meant financial suicide—the elite guests began scrambling toward the exits like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
Cynthia glared down at Dominic, who was still groveling on the floor. All the adoration, all the smug superiority she had worn just ten minutes prior had vanished, replaced by a venomous loathing.
"You pathetic piece of trash," Cynthia hissed, kicking Dominic’s shoulder with her stiletto heel. "You used me! You lied to my family!"
"Cynthia, wait! Your father can help—" Dominic whimpered, reaching out for her gown.
"My father is going to disown you, and then he's going to sue you into the Stone Age!" Cynthia spat, turning on her heel and marching furiously toward the private elevators, her entourage trailing behind her like a flock of terrified birds.
Chloe, who had finally managed to sneak up the service stairs to see what was happening, stood frozen near the back pillar. She watched in absolute horror as her boss—the man she had fawned over, the man she had helped orchestrate the secret affair with—was reduced to a weeping beggar on the floor.
She tried to slowly back away, hoping to melt into the shadows and slip out unnoticed.
"Where do you think you're going, Chloe?"
Viv’s voice rang out clearly across the room.
Chloe froze, her back stiffening. She turned around slowly, pasting a desperate, fake smile on her face. "Mrs... Mrs. Sterling. I was just... I was just coming up to check on the catering! It's terrible what Dominic did, really! I always knew he was a snake, and—"
"You told my six-year-old daughter that she didn't belong here," Viv interrupted, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. "You threatened to have security throw us out. You mocked her handmade gift."
Chloe swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I was just... following protocol! Dominic told me to keep gatecrashers away!"
Victor stepped into Chloe’s line of sight, his imposing frame blocking her path to the door. He pulled out a sleek black leather notebook and flipped it open.
"Chloe Miller," Victor said, reading effortlessly from memory. "Embezzlement of corporate discretionary funds, falsifying travel expenses for the past fourteen months, totaling roughly one hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
Chloe’s jaw dropped. All the color drained from her face until she looked like a corpse. "That... that's impossible! You have no proof!"
"I have every bank statement, every forged receipt, and an internal audit completed by my team this afternoon," Victor said calmly, snapping the book shut. "The police are waiting in the lobby right now. You can join Dominic in federal holding."
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Chloe let out a choked gasp, her knees buckling as she collapsed onto the carpet in a puddle of tears.
In less than twenty minutes, the Grand Horizon ballroom had transformed from a glittering temple of high society into a ghost town. Only Dominic remained on the floor, weeping softly into his hands, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled champagne.
