Chapter 4 - The Grand Ballroom
The grand crystal chandeliers of the Manhattan ballroom cast a dazzling, blinding brilliance across the polished marble floor, reflecting off glittering diamonds, expensive champagne flutes, and the expensive bespoke suits of New York’s elite.
Ethan Mercer stood near the center of the room, looking impossibly smug in a tailored black tuxedo, his arm wrapped tightly around Sabrina Vale, who was draped in a blinding sequined red gown that screamed for tabloid attention. They were laughing uproariously as a reporter from the Wall Street Journal snapped photos for the upcoming weekend edition.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Ethan announced into the microphone on the elevated stage, raising his champagne glass with theatrical flair. "Tonight celebrates new beginnings, ambitious ventures, and leaving behind dead weight to embrace a brighter, more prosperous future."
A polite wave of laughter and applause rippled through the crowd of sycophants and business associates. Sabrina smiled toxically, basking in the spotlight.
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany double doors at the far end of the grand ballroom swung open with a resounding, echoing click.
The low murmur of conversation instantly died down. Heads turned in unison toward the entrance, expecting late-arriving dignitaries or politicians. Instead, the sea of wealthy socialites parted naturally, creating a wide, silent aisle.
I walked through those doors.
I wore the midnight-blue silk gown, my posture ramrod straight, my head held high, radiating a quiet, unshakeable confidence that commanded the room. Every eye locked onto me, whispering behind gloved hands as they recognized the woman Ethan had supposedly banished to obscurity six months ago.
But I wasn't alone.
Walking calmly beside me was Julian Cross. His dark tuxedo fit him to perfection, his expression cool, collected, and utterly untouchable. And in his arms—cradled securely against his chest with expert, tender precision—were two tiny, perfectly dressed baby girls in matching ivory knit cardigans, while a third baby slept peacefully in a sleek designer carrier strapped securely across his chest.
The color drained instantly from Ethan’s face. The champagne flute slipped from his fingers, shattering against the marble floor with a sharp, explosive crack that echoed through the dead silence of the ballroom.
Ethan pushed past Sabrina, stumbling down the stage steps as if he had been struck by a physical blow. He marched right across the polished floor until he stood directly in front of us, his eyes wide with hysterical disbelief, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
May you like
He stared from Julian to me, and then down at the three tiny, familiar faces resting against his rival’s chest.
"What..." Ethan stammered, his voice cracking loudly in the silent room, "What are you doing with my children?!"
