Chapter 4 - The Gala of Wolves
Twenty-four hours later, the annual Caldwell Global Philanthropic Gala was in full swing inside the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan.
Normally, following the fallout with Victoria and the threat from Julian Marcone, Ethan would have canceled the event. But Ethan knew the rules of high-society warfare in New York better than anyone: Never hide when your enemies are watching. Vulnerability attracts sharks.
Instead of canceling, Ethan turned the gala into an absolute demonstration of power.
The Plaza was surrounded by three rings of security—NYPD officers on the perimeter, private military contractors in the lobby, and Ethan's most trusted waterfront enforcers discreetly positioned throughout the ballroom dressed in tuxedos.
Upstairs in a private, heavily guarded penthouse suite of the hotel, Lily was asleep under the care of two pediatric nurses and four armed guards.
Downstairs in the ballroom, I stood by Ethan's side, wearing a stunning, floor-length emerald green silk gown Ethan had ordered directly from a Paris atelier. My hair was swept up in elegant curls, a diamond necklace glittering against my collarbone. I no longer looked like the housemaid who scrubbed marble floors; I looked like the queen of the Caldwell empire.
Beside me, Ethan was a towering vision of dark elegance in a custom black tuxedo. His hand stayed firmly planted on the small of my back, his presence an impenetrable wall protecting me from the curious, whispering eyes of New York's high society.
"Look at them," Ethan murmured close to my ear, his breath warm against my neck as we stood near the champagne fountain. "They're trying to figure out how a woman who vanished four years ago returned as the sole mother of my heir."
"They think I'm an opportunist, Ethan," I whispered back, taking a small sip of sparkling water. "I saw the headlines in the tabloids this morning. 'The Maid Who Captured the King.'"
"Let them talk," Ethan gritted out softly. "By tomorrow, every news outlet in the country will announce our formal marriage. You are my wife, Rosa. In every way that matters."
Before I could respond to his sudden, overwhelming declaration, the heavy velvet curtains near the VIP entrance parted.
Victoria Haynes walked into the ballroom.
She looked radiant and lethal in a backless crimson dress, her arm linked with a tall, sleek man in his late thirties with sharp, wolfish features and a thin scar running down his left cheek.
Julian Marcone.
A sudden hush fell over the surrounding crowd as the titan of the docks and his sworn enemy stood forty feet apart in the middle of the glittering ballroom.
Victoria smiled, a cold, venomous expression of pure triumph, as she led Julian directly toward us.
"Ethan, darling," Victoria purred, her voice dripping with poison. "You didn't think I'd miss your annual charity event, did you? Especially when I brought a very special guest who was eager to congratulate you on your... unexpected fatherhood."
Julian Marcone stepped forward, his dark eyes flickering over me with sickening appraisal before landing on Ethan.
"Caldwell," Julian drawled, his voice smooth and oily. "It's been a long time. Four years, isn't it? Since my father's tragic demise at the docks."
Ethan didn't flinch. His posture remained perfectly rigid, his dark eyes fixed on Julian with lethal indifference. "You're trespassing on private property, Marcone. Step off my carpet before my men throw you into the Hudson River."
Julian laughed softly, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out a silver cigar case. "Now, now, Ethan. Where are your manners? I came to offer a toast. To your lovely new bride... and to your adorable little daughter, Lily."
The moment Lily's name left Julian's mouth, the temperature in the ballroom plunged.
Ethan's hand tightened around my waist, his knuckles turning white. "If you say her name again, Julian, you won't leave this room alive."
"Oh, I'm sure your security is top-notch," Julian sneered, stepping an inch closer, lowering his voice so only the four of us could hear. "Plaza lobby secured. Penthouse suite locked down with four armed men. Very impressive, Ethan. But you forgot one thing about the Marcone family."
Julian pulled out a sleek smartphone, tapping the screen to display a live video feed.
My heart stopped beating entirely.
The video feed showed the service elevator of the Plaza Hotel. Standing inside the steel elevator were two men in maintenance uniforms, holding heavy suppressed pistols.
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And on the digital floor indicator above their heads, the red light was climbing toward the penthouse suite.
"Victoria was very generous with the hotel's master service codes," Julian whispered, a hideous, sadistic grin spreading across his scarred face. "You have thirty seconds, Ethan. Transfer the deeds to the Red Hook terminal to my offshore account right now... or your little girl doesn't make it to her fourth birthday."
