Chapter 3
Chapter 3: The Trap at the Gala
The next evening, the Harrington Estate was hosting the annual Wall Street Charity Gala.
The grand ballroom was packed with hundreds of the most powerful billionaires, politicians, and media moguls in the country. Violins played softly, champagne flowed like water, and at the center of it all stood Thomas Harrington, wearing a designer tuxedo and sipping scotch, confidently playing the part of the future king.
Evelyn watched him from the top of the grand marble staircase.
She began her descent slowly. But she wasn't alone.
Walking right beside her, holding her hand tightly, was Emma. The nine-year-old was no longer wearing her stained housemaid uniform. She wore a beautiful, custom-made navy blue silk dress, and glowing prominently on her right hand was the $20 million Blue Sovereign Sapphire.
As Evelyn reached the bottom of the stairs, the music sputtered and died.
Whispers broke out instantly across the crowded ballroom. The elite guests stared in absolute confusion at the little girl holding the matriarch's hand.
Thomas’s smile instantly froze. The glass of scotch trembled in his hand as his eyes locked onto the blue sparkle around Emma’s finger.
“Aunt Evelyn,” Thomas said, stepping forward, forcing a strained laugh as he tried to maintain his composure. “What... what is the meaning of this? Why is one of the cleaning children dressed up at a corporate gala? It’s bad for our image.”
“Our image, Thomas?” Evelyn asked, her voice echoing perfectly off the high ceilings. “Or your timeline?”
Thomas blinked, his face losing its color. “I don't understand.”
Evelyn stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. “Ten years ago, you paid a mechanic to sabotage Jacob’s plane because you wanted his inheritance. But you didn't know that Jacob’s fiancé was pregnant. You didn't know she gave birth in secret before she passed away from grief.”
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The wealthy guests gasped. Phones were pulled out as the live media coverage of the gala began streaming the confrontation to the world.
“You found out about the baby girl nine years ago,” Evelyn continued, her eyes cutting through him like a blade. “You couldn't bring yourself to kill a baby, so you paid an orphanage to hide her, giving her a fake name. And when she grew up, you hired her as a maid in my own house—keeping her close so you could watch her, making sure she never discovered who she really was.”
