Chapter 3 - The Gala of Ghosts
The night before the grand wedding at Saint James Cathedral was the annual Lakeshore Biomedical Innovation Gala, hosted in the Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel.
Over four hundred prominent surgeons, researchers, city politicians, and wealthy donors filled the room. Ice sculptures shaped like double-helix DNA strands stood beside towers of expensive seafood. A string quartet played softly near the grand staircase.
Ethan Reed was in his element.
Dressed in a custom Italian tuxedo, he stood near the center bar, holding court with three department chairs from Northwestern and the Dean of Medicine. Beside him, wearing a glittering silver dress that clung to every curve, stood Sophia Lane.
"Where is your lovely bride-to-be, Ethan?" asked Dr. Harrison, an elderly chief of cardiology. "I expected to see Claire here tonight. Isn't your big day tomorrow?"
Ethan took a smooth sip of his vintage Cabernet, flashing a warm, practiced smile. "Claire had an emergency gallbladder resection at the hospital tonight, Dr. Harrison. You know how dedicated she is. I told her to stay home and rest before tomorrow's ceremony, but she insists on putting her patients first."
"A dedicated woman," Harrison chuckled, patting Ethan’s shoulder. "You're a lucky man, Reed. Though I must say, Sophia here makes a spectacular stand-in co-host for the grant presentation!"
Sophia beamed, sliding her hand casually through Ethan’s elbow. "Ethan and I have been working sixteen-hour days to get the foundation metrics ready, Dr. Harrison. We're practically attached at the hip these days."
Ethan laughed softly, leaning down to whisper something in Sophia's ear that made her let out a musical, delicate laugh.
Across the room, near the shadows of the mezzanine balcony, Dr. Malcolm Pierce stood watching them.
He held a glass of sparkling water, his dark eyes cold as ice.
A young surgical resident walked up to Pierce. "Dr. Pierce, sir! Is Dr. Bennett coming tonight? We had a card signed by the whole surgical floor to give her before the wedding tomorrow."
Pierce took a sip of his water. "Dr. Bennett will not be attending tonight."
"Oh, is she preparing for the wedding?"
"Dr. Bennett is currently finalizing her flight arrangements," Pierce said smoothly. "And I suggest you deliver that card to her new office address in Seattle."
The resident blinked, bewildered. "Seattle? But... what about Ethan?"
Pierce turned his gaze back to Ethan, who was currently clinking his glass against Sophia's in a private toast near the stage.
"Ethan Reed," Pierce said quietly, "is about to discover the exact cost of assuming a woman like Claire Bennett can be replaced."
At 9:30 PM, the lights in the ballroom dimmed for the keynote presentation.
The Dean of Medicine stepped up to the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we recognize unprecedented excellence in cardiac translational research. It is my distinct honor to present the $2 Million Pacific-Midwest Research Grant to Dr. Ethan Reed... and his co-investigator, Dr. Sophia Lane!"
Applause erupted across the room.
Ethan beamed, straightening his tie as he led Sophia up the stairs to the stage. They stood side by side under the bright stage lights, accepting the massive crystal trophy and a framed certificate.
"Thank you," Ethan said into the microphone, his voice resonance filling the hall. "Research is a journey of sacrifice. It requires surrounding yourself with people who truly understand your vision, people who stand by you when the pressure is greatest. I want to thank the board, the foundation, and most importantly, my partner in all things, Sophia."
He turned to Sophia, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles in front of four hundred people.
The crowd cheered. Flashbulbs went off.
In the back of the room, Ethan’s mother, Eleanor Reed, clapped gracefully, though her eyes scanned the room with growing irritation.
"Where on earth is Claire?" Eleanor whispered to her husband. "This is disgraceful. She should be standing on that stage supporting him. Her absence is going to be the talk of the country club tomorrow morning!"
"Relax, Eleanor," her husband muttered. "She's probably at home making sure the flower delivery for tomorrow morning goes smoothly."
At that exact moment, twenty miles away at O'Hare International Airport, Terminal 1, Gate C18, Claire Bennett walked through the jet bridge.
She was wearing a simple slate-gray coat, dark jeans, and boots. She carried a single leather carry-on bag over her shoulder.
As she reached the door of the Boeing 737, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
It was an automated notification from the automated church registry system at Saint James Cathedral:
REMINDER: Your wedding ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow, Saturday, November 15th, at 11:00 AM. Please ensure all bridal party members arrive by 9:30 AM for final prep.
Claire tapped the screen, opened her settings, and selected: CANCEL EVENT.
A confirmation window popped up: Are you sure you wish to cancel this booking? Deposits will be forfeited, and all registered guests will receive an automated cancellation notice.
Claire pressed CONFIRM.
Then she took her SIM card out of her phone, snapped it cleanly in half between her thumb and forefinger, and dropped the pieces into the small recycling bin beside the flight attendant's desk.
She stepped onto the plane.
"Welcome aboard, ma'am," the flight attendant smiled warmly. "Heading home?"
May you like
Claire looked back toward the dark Chicago night sky visible through the portal window.
"Yes," Claire said, a genuine, beautiful smile breaking across her face for the first time in four years. "I finally am."
