Chapter 2 - Cold Champagne and Broken Glass
The first course arrived with quiet ceremony: chilled lobster medallions and vintage Dom Pérignon served in fluted crystal. A private waiter immediately appeared at my shoulder, placing an artisanal mocktail of sparkling elderflower and fresh crushed raspberries beside my plate. Gabriel had arranged every detail with the catering manager before our car even pulled up to the curb.
Across the white linen tablecloth, Julian barely touched his food. He downed his champagne in two hurried gulps, waving an impatient hand at the server for a refill before the glass even hit the surface. Dalia was aggressively typing under the table, her knuckles white as she repeatedly refreshed her social media feeds. The red carpet photographs had already hit the major celebrity portals. Headlines like “Khloe Duval Returns: Pregnant, Radiant, and Arm-in-Arm with Lancaster” were trending across every platform, eclipsing the planned press release regarding Julian's latest commercial venture.
"You're making a massive spectacle of yourself, Khloe," Julian said, his voice dropped to a tense murmur beneath the ambient clatter of silverware. "Parading around with my primary business competitor while carrying a child. Do you have any idea how cheap this makes you look in front of old money Manhattan?"
I set down my water glass without the slightest rattle. "Old money Manhattan knows a thief when they see one, Julian. And right now, they're looking at you wondering why Lancaster Capital owns forty percent of your debt."
Julian choked on his second glass of champagne, coughing sharply into his linen napkin. Dalia rubbed his back with frantic, sharp movements, glaring across the flowers at me.
"That's confidential company data," Julian snarled, his face mottled red. "You signed a nondisclosure agreement as part of the dissolution settlement. If you breathe one word of Duval Enterprises’ liquidity structure in this room, my legal team will file an injunction before the night ends. I will strip you of every dime the divorce court granted you."
"Your divorce settlement gave me pennies on the dollar, Julian," I said, leaning in just enough so only he, Dalia, and Gabriel could hear. "You claimed the patent portfolio for the bio-filtration membrane was worthless and took complete ownership of the intellectual property while leaving me with an offshore shell holding debt. You told the judge the development had stalled because my emotional instability was hindering laboratory progress."
Julian’s eyes narrowed into slits. "You agreed to the terms."
"I signed because I wanted to be free of you," I replied evenly. "I signed because my physician warned me that remaining under your roof would guarantee I never carried a child to term. But what you forgot—what you were too arrogant to realize—is that the core patent was never registered under Duval Enterprises."
A sudden drop of cold sweat appeared near Julian’s temple, glistening under the room’s ambient light.
"What are you talking about?" he whispered.
Gabriel leaned back against his chair, his broad shoulders relaxed, radiating the effortless dominance of a man who had already seen all the cards in play.
"Your primary production line in New Jersey is operating on an expired provisional permit, Julian," Gabriel stated, his voice flat and devastatingly clear. "Your chief counsel failed to secure the international PCT filing before the statutory deadline twelve months ago. Khloe retained the original prototype design rights under her maiden trust. Last Tuesday, she assigned those rights exclusively to Lancaster BioTech."
Dalia gasped, her fork slipping from her manicured fingers and clattering against her porcelain plate with a sharp, resonant ring that drew stares from Table Two.
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"Julian," Dalia whispered, panic bleeding into her tone. "Tell me he’s bluffing. The institutional lenders... they gave us ninety million dollars based on that patent exclusivity!"
Julian didn't answer her. He stared at me as if the floor had dropped out beneath his feet. The foundation emcee’s voice boomed over the speakers, announcing the start of the high-stakes charity auction, but to Julian Duval, the room had gone completely, terrifyingly silent.
