Chapter 5 - The Gala of Wolves
The Grand Ballroom of the Moretti Plaza Hotel was an explosion of opulent luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung from gold-leaf ceilings, casting warm light over hundreds of guests draped in haute couture gowns and tailored tuxedos. Politicians, judges, corporate titans, and underworld syndicate leaders mingled freely, drinking hundred-dollar champagne while violinists played softly in the background.
And in the center of it all stood Lily.
Vincent’s private stylists had spent three hours transforming me. I wore an off-the-shoulder gown of deep midnight-blue velvet that hugged my frame before cascading down to the marble floor. Diamonds—real, brilliant diamonds—glittered around my neck. My hair was styled into an intricate updo, leaving my long neck exposed.
For a girl who had eaten out of garbage cans three days ago, standing in this room felt like walking on glass.
“You look like you belong here,” a soft voice spoke beside me.
I looked down to see Ethan sitting in a sleek, motorized wheelchair, dressed in a sharp little tuxedo. His color was better, though his legs remained covered by a silk blanket.
“I feel like an imposter,” I admitted quietly, kneeling beside his chair.
“You’re not,” Ethan said firmly, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “My dad says real royalty isn't about blood or money. It’s about backbone. And you have more backbone than anyone in this room.”
Vincent joined us, looking imposing in a custom black tuxedo. His presence naturally created a ten-foot bubble around us as guests bowed their heads respectfully, terrified to step too close to the tiger in his lair.
“Silas,” Vincent said without looking around.
Silas materialized from the crowd, holding a encrypted radio tablet. “Perimeter is secure, Boss. All guests have passed through biometric scanners.”
“And Paul?” Vincent asked smoothly.
“He is overseeing the private security detail in the control suite on the fifth floor,” Silas reported.
I leaned in closer to Vincent, my voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Vincent, you can’t trust Paul. I overheard him two nights ago. He’s working with the Falcones. He mentioned the fifth floor, and he mentioned finishing what he started with Ethan tonight.”
Vincent didn't flinch. He didn't even look surprised. He simply took a slow sip of his champagne, his dark eyes sparkling with a lethal, terrifying intelligence.
“I know, Lily,” Vincent whispered back.
I blinked, stunned. “You know?”
“Paul thinks he managed to hide his offshore accounts,” Vincent explained softly, his hand resting reassuringly on my shoulder. “I let him believe he was succeeding so he would draw his co-conspirators out into the open. The Falcone family’s entire leadership structure is attending this gala under the guise of a peace offering.”
Just then, the double doors of the ballroom swung open.
A tall, silver-haired man with cold blue eyes and a razor-thin mustache strode into the room, flanked by four massive bodyguards.
Dominic Falcone. The head of the rival family.
Dominic walked straight toward our group, a condescending smirk playing on his lips. He looked down at Ethan in his wheelchair, then at me, then finally met Vincent’s gaze.
“Vincent,” Dominic greeted smoothly, extending a hand clad in leather driving gloves. “A tragic accident regarding your young heir. I came to offer my deepest personal condolences.”
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Vincent didn't shake his hand. He stepped directly between Dominic and Ethan, his towering frame cutting off the rival boss’s view completely.
“Keep your condolences, Dominic,” Vincent said, his voice echoing clearly over the light violin music, causing nearby conversations to instantly die down. “Because before this night is over... you’re going to need them far more than I do.”
