Chapter 5 - The Gala of Retribution
Two weeks later.
The annual Chicago High Fashion Gala was held at the Grand Drake Hotel—the most prestigious social event of the winter season. The ballroom was a sea of crystal chandeliers, champagne fountains, high-society elites, corporate billionaires, and luxury brand executives.
Among the attendees were Frank, Diane, and Ashley Whitaker.
Frank had managed to secure three third-tier invitation tickets through a business acquaintance, spending half his savings on a rented tuxedo and expensive dresses for Diane and Ashley. He was desperate to find a wealthy investor for his failing real estate venture, while Ashley was determined to catch the eye of a high-society bachelor.
"Make sure you smile at everyone, Ashley," Diane whispered, adjusting her tight sequin dress as they walked into the opulent ballroom. "There are millionaires in every corner of this room."
"I know, Mom," Ashley said, sipping champagne from a glass, looking around with hungry eyes. "I just hope we don't see any press about that brat Lily. She hasn't answered her phone in two weeks."
Frank grumbled into his glass. "Don't mention her name. She’s probably sleeping in a alley somewhere after realizing her little modeling dream was a scam. Victor Hale probably tossed her out five minutes after taking his business card back."
At that moment, the lights in the grand ballroom suddenly dimmed.
A spotlight focused on the main staircase at the front of the room.
The president of the Chicago Fashion Association stepped up to the microphone, his voice echoing through the loudspeakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the host announced grandly. "Tonight, Hale International Enterprises is proud to unveil the new global face of their 'Unpolished Beauty' campaign—a campaign that has already secured fifty million dollars in international pre-orders!"
The crowd gasped softly, applause rippling through the ballroom.
"Please welcome... Miss Lily Morgan!"
A dramatic string orchestra began to play a powerful, elegant symphony.
At the top of the marble staircase, a woman stepped into the spotlight.
The entire ballroom went dead silent.
Lily stood at the top of the stairs, looking like an absolute goddess. She wore a breathtaking, custom-designed sapphire-blue velvet gown that swept the floor, adorned with silver embroidery that caught the light like stars. Around her neck was a delicate diamond necklace—a personal piece from Victor Hale’s private vault. Her auburn hair was styled in an elegant updo, exposing her long, graceful neck and magnificent jawline.
Beside her, holding her hand with quiet, protective pride, was Victor Hale.
The crowd erupted into wild, thunderous applause. Photographers rushed to the edge of the stairs, their camera flashes creating a blinding storm of light.
Down in the crowd, Frank Whitaker dropped his glass of champagne.
The glass shattered against the marble floor, spilling liquid over his rented shoes, but he didn't even notice. His eyes were wide, bulging out of his head in absolute, paralyzing horror.
Diane let out a high-pitched, strangled gasp, clutching her husband’s arm so hard her fingernails dug through his jacket.
Ashley stood frozen, her face turning an ugly, ghostly shade of green. Her hand trembled so violently her champagne spilled onto her pink dress.
"No..." Ashley choked out, her voice hysterical. "No, no, no... That’s impossible... That can’t be her! That’s a mistake!"
"It's... it's Lily," Frank stammered, his face turning bright red as cold sweat broke out on his forehead. "My God... it's Lily..."
Lily walked down the marble staircase on Victor’s arm with effortless grace, smiling warmly at the cheering crowd, completely comfortable in her own skin. She didn't look like a girl begging for permission to exist. She looked like the sun.
As Victor led her through the crowd toward the VIP lounge, his sharp eyes spotted the three Whitakers standing near the ruined glass on the floor, looking like pale ghosts.
Victor leaned down to Lily, his voice smooth. "Do you see your family over there, Lily?"
Lily turned her head. Her emerald eyes locked onto Frank, Diane, and Ashley.
For a second, Frank thought she would look away in shame or fear.
Instead, Lily looked straight into Frank's greedy, terrified eyes, and smiled—a calm, radiant, victorious smile. Then, she turned her head away, dismissing them completely, as if they were nothing more than dust on the floor.
Frank, driven by sudden, desperate greed, pushed through the crowd toward her.
"Lily! Lily, sweetheart!" Frank called out loudly, trying to reach the red carpet perimeter. "Lily, it’s your Uncle Frank! Look over here!"
Two massive, dark-suited security guards stepped into his path instantly, blocking him like a brick wall.
"Sir, step back," the security officer commanded sternly.
"You don't understand!" Frank yelled, sweating profusely, pointing at Lily’s back. "That's my niece! I raised her! I pay her bills! Lily, tell them who I am! We're family!"
Victor Hale paused. He slowly turned around, stepping in front of the security guards.
He looked down at Frank Whitaker with an expression of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Are you Frank Whitaker?" Victor asked, his voice low and dangerous enough to cut through the noise of the music.
Frank grinned nervously, smoothing his rented jacket. "Yes! Yes, Mr. Hale! I’m her uncle! I’m the head of her family! I'm here to discuss her management representation with you—"
"Mr. Whitaker," Victor interrupted coldly. "My legal team filed a formal restraining order against you, your wife, and your daughter four days ago."
Frank’s smile vanished. "What?"
"Furthermore," Victor continued, stepping closer so only Frank could hear his lethal whisper, "I had my financial investigators review your real estate business last week. It appears you have committed tax fraud and corporate embezzlement amounting to six hundred thousand dollars over the last five years."
Frank’s blood ran completely cold. His knees buckled, and he almost collapsed right there on the floor.
"The evidence was handed over to the Internal Revenue Service two hours ago," Victor said smoothly. "I suggest you enjoy the rest of this party, Mr. Whitaker. It will be the last luxurious room you see for a very long time."
May you like
Victor turned his back on the trembling man, walked over to Lily, and offered her his arm.
Together, they walked into the private VIP lounge, leaving Frank, Diane, and Ashley standing in the middle of the crowded ballroom as security officers stepped up to escort them off the premises in front of every millionaire in Chicago.
