Chapter 8 - The Grand Gala
The Grand Ballroom of the Hyatt was bathed in amber lighting and the gentle hum of an eight-piece string quartet. Polished silver ice buckets held vintage champagne, and Manhattan’s elite mingled in black-tie attire.
Trent stood near the center stage, wearing a custom tuxedo, holding a glass of Scotch. He looked haggard beneath his bronze makeup, his eyes darting toward the entrance every few seconds, terrified that security or the police were going to pull the plug. But the event was moving forward, and his desperate delusion made him believe he had somehow weathered the storm.
Dale and Evelyn were beside him, wearing rented finery, aggressively pitching Trent's "revolutionary media ecosystem" to two hedge fund managers who looked visibly bored.
At precisely 9:00 PM, Trent took the stage. The microphone let out a low chime, silencing the room.
"Distinguished guests, partners, and friends," Trent began, turning on the charm that had once captivated me years ago. "Tonight marks a new chapter for Sterling Media. We are expanding our horizon, taking on institutional capital to revolutionize digital production. Despite recent... malicious rumors spread by disgruntled former associates, our foundation has never been stronger."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Dale clapped loudly, trying to initiate an ovation, but only a few polite claps followed.
"To demonstrate our absolute transparency and financial vigor," Trent continued, raising his glass, "I would like to direct your attention to the main screens for our third-quarter financial audit."
The lights dimmed. The giant high-definition projector screen behind Trent flickered to life.
Trent smiled, turning to face the screen.
May you like
Except the presentation that appeared was not the doctored slide deck Trent had prepared.
It was a giant, high-resolution scan of First Horizon's official *FRAUD INVESTIGATION NOTICE*, stamped with the seal of the New York County District Attorney's Office.
