Chapter 11
The ballroom was glittering with crystal chandeliers.
Waiters in white tuxedos carried silver trays of champagne.
A string quartet played softly in the corner.
The room was packed with the elite of Chicago.
Mayors,
judges,
CEOs,
and socialites.
Patricia was holding court at Table 4.
She was wearing her absurdly expensive silver gown.
She was smiling,
laughing,
and sipping her drink.
Frank was sitting beside her.
He looked uncomfortable.
He kept adjusting his collar.
People were whispering as they walked by.
But Patricia ignored them.
She was busy telling her fabricated story to a local judge's wife.
"It is just a tragedy,"
Patricia sighed,
touching her pearl necklace.
"We loved Alice like a daughter.
But she has these manic episodes.
She attacked Frank.
He merely defended himself.
The police overreacted,
you know how they are these days."
The judge's wife nodded politely,
though her eyes darted away nervously.
Kevin was sitting at the table,
staring at his phone.
He looked miserable.
He hadn't slept in days.
His annulment was proceeding rapidly.
His reputation at the firm was ruined.
He just wanted to go home.
At the back of the room,
the heavy oak doors opened.
Alice stepped into the ballroom.
She did not sneak in.
She did not hide.
She walked right down the center aisle.
Her emerald dress flowed behind her.
Her posture was perfect.
Her head was held high.
And the yellow bruise on her cheek was visible for anyone who looked closely.
The whispers started immediately.
"Is that her?"
"That's the daughter-in-law."
"She has a lot of nerve showing up here."
Alice ignored them all.
She found a spot near the back bar,
ordered a sparkling water,
and waited.
She checked her watch.
8:45 PM.
The keynote speaker,
a prominent philanthropist,
was wrapping up his speech on the main stage.
"And so,
we must always strive to support our community,"
the speaker droned on.
"We must protect the vulnerable.
We must stand for truth."
The audience clapped politely.
The speaker smiled and stepped away from the podium.
This was the transition moment.
This was when the screens were supposed to show the charity's logo.
High up in the sound booth,
Chloe pressed a button.
The charity logo vanished from the massive screens.
The ballroom went dark for two seconds.
A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd.
Then,
the screens flickered back to life.
Not with a logo.
But with a high-definition video of a living room.
The audio kicked in through the massive stadium-quality speakers.
It was deafeningly clear.
"Grab some trash bags and clean this up,"
Briana’s voice echoed off the crystal chandeliers.
The entire ballroom froze.
Five hundred heads snapped toward the screens.
At Table 4,
Patricia dropped her champagne glass.
It shattered on the floor.
Frank stood up,
his face turning purple.
May you like
Kevin buried his face in his hands.
The trap was sprung.
