Chapter 5 - The Grand Ballroom Setup
The Fairmont Dallas ballroom was a masterclass in excessive wealth.
Crystal chandeliers cascaded like frozen waterfalls from the gilded ceiling. Ice sculptures shaped like soaring towers sat at the center of imported mahogany tables, surrounded by sea-salt-crusted wagyu beef and rivers of vintage Dom Pérignon. Flashbulbs popped blindingly against the velvet backdrop as local politicians, society elites, and real estate moguls mingled in custom tuxedos and glittering evening gowns.
At the center of it all stood Grant Calloway.
He looked, from a distance, like a king. His charcoal suit was immaculate, his silver-plated cuff links caught the light, and a charming, practiced smile was plastered across his face as he shook hands with the city’s senior council members.
But if you looked closely—if you watched the way his hands slightly trembled when he set down his champagne flute, or the cold sweat glistening at his hairline—you could see the man was standing on a trapdoor.
I entered through the side service entrance, wearing a midnight-blue velvet gown that hugged my frame without apology. I didn't wear my wedding ring. I wore a simple, heavy platinum band on my right hand—a reminder of who I truly was.
Julian stepped out from behind a velvet curtain, holding a sleek black leather portfolio.
“Everything is in place, ma’am,” Julian murmured, keeping his voice low so as not to draw the attention of the passing catering staff. “The Meridian board has officially arrived, and the private annex upstairs is prepped for the formal contract exchange at eight-thirty.”
“And Grant’s financial compliance audit?” I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on my husband across the crowded room.
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“Fully executed,” Julian replied, a faint smile touching his lips. “The moment we invoke the clause regarding executive health disclosure violations, every line of credit Calloway Developments holds with Meridian will freeze instantly. His five-hundred-million-dollar deal will evaporate before he can pick up the ceremonial gold pen.”
“Good,” I said, adjusting my clutch. “Let’s not keep the groom waiting.”
