Chapter 6 - An Invitation Claire Did Not Receive
By 8:00 a.m., the snow had cleared, leaving Chicago glistening like polished glass under a cold, brilliant winter sun.
Eleanor stepped out of the private master bath on the third floor wrapped in a heavy terry-cloth robe. When she entered the adjoining dressing suite, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Three rolling racks of clothing stood beneath the recessed spotlights. There were bespoke wool trousers, cashmere turtlenecks in cream, camel, and deep burgundy, tailored wrap coats, silk blouses, and three structured evening gowns in midnight blue, forest green, and black velvet. Every piece was cut with precision, designed not to squeeze or hide a woman's body, but to drape across full hips and strong shoulders with regal authority.
On the island counter sat four pairs of handcrafted Italian leather pumps, two pairs of riding boots, and a velvet jewelry box.
Mrs. Higgins stepped into the room, carrying a fresh cup of black coffee on a silver tray. "Good morning, Mrs. Vale. The tailor from Michigan Avenue delivered these at dawn per Mr. Vale’s instructions. He provided your measurements from the coat you left last night."
Eleanor walked toward the black velvet gown, her fingertips tracing the heavy, luxurious pile. "These... these aren't standard off-the-rack sizes."
"Mr. Vale was very specific with the designer," Mrs. Higgins said, a warm, knowing smile touching her lips. "He told them: 'Do not design for an empty hanger. Design for a queen with presence.' Your coffee, ma'am."
An hour later, Eleanor emerged into the ground-floor gallery wearing high-waisted charcoal wool trousers, a cream silk blouse that highlighted the curve of her bust, and an unbuttoned camel hair jacket with sharp, architectural shoulders. Her hair was swept up into a sleek, professional chignon, and in her ears hung two modest diamond studs from the velvet box.
Elias was waiting by the front entrance, wearing a three-piece charcoal suit that matched hers with uncanny perfection. When he turned and saw her walking down the limestone staircase, his breath caught audibly.
His dark blue eyes traveled down the length of her, from the proud lift of her chin to the flare of her wool trousers, and a look of primal, terrifying satisfaction settled over his face.
"Magnificent," he said simply.
"The Rotterdam amendment is ready for your signature," she replied, keeping her voice even despite the heat rising in her cheeks.
"Good. The board meets in thirty minutes."
As they stepped into the Maybach, Marcus handed Elias a courier envelope with a gold seal. "This just arrived at the Michigan Avenue office, sir. From the Drake Hotel."
Elias slit the envelope with a thumb. He scanned the heavy cardstock inside, his lip curling in contempt.
"What is it?" Eleanor asked.
"The Chicago Hospitality Association Annual Winter Ball," Elias said, tossing the invitation into her lap. "Tonight at eight. Edward Whitmore was supposed to receive the Lifetime Achievement Award. Tickets are five thousand dollars a plate."
Eleanor looked at the embossed gold lettering. At the bottom, printed in tiny italics, was the event committee list: Claire Whitmore, Lead Social Chair.
"Claire spent eight months organizing this," Eleanor said, a cold memory surfacing. "She told me last week that there wasn't enough room at the family table for me because 'the cameras prefer symmetry.'"
Elias took the invitation back from her fingers, tore it clean down the middle, and dropped the halves onto the floor of the car.
"Marcus," Elias said through the intercom.
"Yes, Mr. Vale?"
"Call the Drake. Buy the title sponsorship for the gala under Eleanor’s name. Purchase every table within twenty feet of the stage. And tell the security detail that Edward Whitmore's name has been removed from the program."
May you like
Eleanor turned to him, her eyes wide. "Elias, you can't just cancel his award—"
"I don't cancel awards, Eleanor," Elias said, reaching across the console to take her hand, intertwining his long, scarred fingers with hers. "I replace the honoree. Tonight, the city honors the woman who actually kept the lights on."
