Chapter 7 - The Drake Ballroom
The grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel was a cathedral of crystal chandeliers, white orchids, and ruthless society politics. Chicago’s elite moved across the parquet floor like sharks in silk, whispering behind champagne flutes about the Kwon-Moretti feud that had dominated the financial columns all week.
Elias stood near the central fountain, looking impeccably tailored in a custom Tom Ford tuxedo. But beneath the polished facade, dark circles shadowed his eyes. He had slept four hours in the past three days. Every investigative lead had hit a brick wall; Julian Moretti’s security was an iron curtain.
"Elias, you need to issue a statement," Marcus murmured beside him, sipping a scotch. "The board is demanding clarification. If you don't file the Meridian approvals by Friday, the consortium pulls out."
"Shut up, Marcus," Elias snapped, his gaze sweeping the room with cold impatience. "I will handle it."
Suddenly, a ripple went through the crowd near the double bronze entrance. The string quartet seemed to falter. The quiet hum of chatter dropped into a stunned, collective hush.
Elias turned.
Walking through the arched entryway on the arm of Julian Moretti was Clara.
Elias's heart stopped. The world around him faded into white noise.
She was breathtaking. Gone was the quiet, understated woman who wore muted tones and kept her head bowed at his side. Clara wore an emerald-green silk column dress that flowed like liquid around her curves, clinging to her waist and sweeping the floor. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, exposing the delicate line of her neck and the diamond drop earrings that Elias had never bought her. Her head was held high, her spine straight as a blade, her lips painted a striking, defiant crimson.
And her hand was tucked securely in the crook of Julian Moretti's arm.
Julian leaned down, whispering something near her ear, and Clara laughed—a genuine, radiant sound that Elias hadn't heard in five years.
A wave of feral, blinding rage tore through Elias's veins. He set his champagne flute down with enough force to crack the glass stem, ignoring Marcus’s warning hiss as he strode across the polished floor, the crowd parting like water before a storm.
"Clara," Elias commanded, his voice cutting through the silence.
She stopped. She turned slowly, her expression cool, detached, and completely devoid of the warmth she had once given him. It was the look of a stranger inspecting an inconvenient obstacle.
"Good evening, Elias," she said, her voice smooth and steady.
"Take your hands off her, Julian," Elias growled, stepping into Julian's space, his fists clenched at his sides.
Julian didn't flinch. He smiled with lazy arrogance, keeping Clara’s hand firmly on his arm. "She is a guest of the Moretti foundation tonight, Elias. Don't make a scene. There are a dozen cameras pointed at your forehead."
Elias ignored him, staring directly into Clara’s green eyes. His voice cracked with suppressed emotion. "You look beautiful. But you are coming home with me right now. We need to talk in private."
"We have nothing to talk about," Clara replied, not yielding an inch. "You received the separation agreement from my attorney this morning. Sign it, Elias. Stop dragging this into the public eye."
"I am not signing anything!" Elias hissed, reaching out to grab her wrist.
Before his fingers could touch her silk sleeve, Julian stepped between them, his hand gripping Elias’s forearm with crushing strength. "Touch her, Kwon, and I’ll have security throw you out into the snow like a common drunk."
Two armed guards from the hotel security team stepped up behind Julian, their hands hovering near their jackets.
Elias pulled his arm back, his chest heaving. He looked at Clara, his eyes pleading for a fracture in her armor, a sign of the girl who had loved him unconditionally. "Clara... please. What do you want? Name your price. I will give you the Meridian project. I will put your name on the building. Just stop this."
Clara looked at him, and for a fleeting moment, a shadow of deep sadness crossed her eyes.
"I don't want your buildings, Elias," she whispered, clear enough for the surrounding onlookers to hear. "I wanted a husband. But you thought my absence wouldn't matter. So prove it."
May you like
She turned her back on him, slipping her hand back into Julian's arm as they walked toward the Governor's table, leaving Elias standing alone under the harsh glare of the chandeliers, completely stripped of his pride.
***
