Chapter 5 - Tên Chapter 5 - A Trap Set in Velvet
The wedding ceremony in the Gold Coast Ballroom was a spectacle of obscene wealth. Four hundred guests in designer gowns and bespoke tuxedos clapped politely as Courtney Vance, adorned in a custom Vera Wang gown that trailed fifteen feet behind her, married a hollow-eyed venture capitalist who looked terrified of his new father-in-law.
From my post near the main arched entryway, I watched Jonathan Vance.
He was a silver-haired fox in his late fifties, boasting a predatory smile and teeth so bleached they looked fluorescent under the warm chandeliers. He stood at the front row, radiating an aura of total invulnerability. To Chicago high society, he was a philanthropist, an innovator, and a titan of commerce. To me, having spent the night dissecting his shadow corporations, he was a thief who stole from killers and hid behind philanthropy.
""Rosie,"" Lorenzo’s voice crackled through my earpiece. ""The commissioner just entered the hall. Table two. Mateo is in position by the breaker room.""
""I'm moving,"" I said softly, grabbing a tray of vintage Dom Pérignon flutes from a passing waiter to give myself an alibi.
I wove through the crowded ballroom, my posture immaculate. The black silk dress skimmed my hips, making heads turn—not with mockery, but with genuine appreciation. For the first time in my adult life, I wasn't trying to hide my body. I walked with my head high, carrying twenty-eight years of resilience and the backing of Chicago's most terrifying man behind my shoulder blades.
I approached Table Two just as Jonathan Vance sat down beside Commissioner Higgins. Marcus, the nervous cousin, was fumbling with a leather portfolio beneath the silk tablecloth.
""More champagne, gentlemen?"" I asked, my voice sweet as honey, offering the silver tray.
Vance barely glanced up, waving a dismissive hand. ""Not now, girl. Go find the floor manager and tell them to close the terrace doors. The draft is terrible.""
""I am the floor manager, Mr. Vance,"" I said, setting the tray down on the side table with deliberate precision. ""And I believe you won't need the terrace doors closed. You’ll want the fresh air once you see the revised banquet invoice.""
Vance stopped mid-sentence. His sharp blue eyes snapped toward my face. ""What are you talking about?""
""The catering surcharge for the Lower Wacker warehouse delivery,"" I replied, pulling a folded sheet of paper from my portfolio and sliding it across the table, directly over the leather binder Marcus was trying to hide. ""It seems an unauthorized wire transfer of two million dollars was credited against your family’s event deposit this morning. Sourced directly from an escrow account labeled Apex Holdings.""
Commissioner Higgins froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. ""Vance, what is this?""
Vance’s face darkened instantly from smug arrogance to cold, venomous fury. He grabbed the paper, scanning the account numbers and routing codes I had highlighted in blood-red ink. ""Where did you get this?"" he hissed, lowering his voice. ""Who gave you this document?""
""A friend,"" I smiled, feeling an intoxicating rush of adrenaline. ""A friend who owns six docks on the South Side and doesn't appreciate amateur software executives playing pirate on his waterways.""
Marcus gasped, knocking over his water glass. ""Jonathan... it's Bianca. She’s with Bianca!""
""Shut your mouth!"" Vance snarled, grabbing my wrist with terrifying force. His grip bruised through my skin. ""Listen to me, you fat little nobody. You take this paper, you walk into the incinerator room, and you burn it. If another soul sees these numbers, you will find yourself floating in the Chicago River before the dessert course is served.""
The threat hung in the air, venomous and real. But I didn't flinch. I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist, then leaned down until my lips were inches from his ear.
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""Mr. Vance,"" I whispered in smooth, chilling Sicilian. ""You made two fatal mistakes tonight. First, you touched me. Second, you assumed I came to this table alone.""
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the Grand Ballroom swung open with a resounding bang that silenced the string quartet instantly.
