Chapter 7 - A Rehearsal in Blood
The Grand Ballroom was a masterpiece of opulence.
Soft jazz drifted from a string quartet near the grand piano. Waiters in white gloves moved through the crowd with silver trays of vintage champagne and beluga caviar. At the center of the room, standing beneath an enormous crystal chandelier, was Mallory Vale.
She was stunning. Dressed in an emerald-green silk gown with an open back, her blonde hair styled into soft Hollywood waves, she was holding court with the state’s lieutenant governor and a senior federal judge.
Beside her, Arthur Vale laughed heartily, his silver cane resting against his knee as he regaled an admiring circle of shipping executives with stories of his grandfather’s first transatlantic freighters.
Then, the heavy double doors at the rear of the ballroom swung open.
Grant Mercer walked in.
The room didn't fall silent immediately, but a ripple of curiosity spread through the nearest tables. Grant had not entered alone. On his arm was a slender woman in a high-necked black dress, pale-faced, sharp-eyed, and completely unknown to high society.
Mallory’s smile froze.
Her glass of champagne paused midway to her lips. Her eyes shifted from Grant to Evelyn, and for three horrifying seconds, absolute, unadulterated shock drained the color from her perfect face.
She recognized Evelyn Shaw.
Arthur Vale stopped speaking mid-sentence. His grip on his silver cane tightened until his knuckles turned bloodless white. His gaze locked onto Evelyn like a hawk sighting a ghost rising from an open grave.
She was supposed to be dead. She was supposed to be a cold corpse rotting on the floor of a condemned apartment in East Baltimore.
Grant smiled warmly, guiding Evelyn directly through the center of the crowd, parting the sea of silk and diamonds until he stood directly in front of Mallory and Arthur.
“Good evening, darling,” Grant said, his voice carrying effortlessly over the quiet murmur of the strings. He leaned down and placed a cold, polite kiss on Mallory’s cheek. “Forgive me for being late. Traffic around the harbor was unusually heavy.”
Mallory pulled back, her chest rising and falling beneath her emerald dress. Her smile was brittle, stretched to the point of snapping. “Grant... who is this? Where have you been?”
“You remember my chief accountant, Evelyn Shaw,” Grant said pleasantly, gesturing to the woman beside him. “The one you said was just an employee with a price. It turns out she didn't leave for Zurich after all. She had some unfinished business with our family accounts.”
Arthur Vale stepped forward, his grandfatherly demeanor vanishing beneath a mask of thunderous menace. “Grant. A word in private. Now.”
“There’s no need for private words, Arthur,” Grant replied, turning to face the entire room. He raised his hand, signaling the waitstaff.
Instantly, the string quartet ceased playing. The chandeliers dimmed slightly, and the massive high-definition presentation screens flanking the main stage hummed to life.
Mallory reached out, grabbing Grant’s wrist with frantic desperation. Her manicured nails dug into his flesh through his sleeve. “Grant, what are you doing? This is our rehearsal dinner! Stop this right now!”
“You spent weeks preparing a video presentation for our guests, didn't you, Mallory?” Grant asked, looking down at her with cold, merciless amusement. “A tribute to our two families coming together. A tribute to the future of Vale Atlantic and Mercer Coastal.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small wireless presenter remote, and pointed it at the central screen.
May you like
“I thought our guests deserved to see the full picture,” Grant said.
He clicked the button.
