Chapter 8 - The Gala of Reckoning
The grand dining room of the Duca waterfront estate was transformed into a spectacle of opulent high-society luxury. The long, polished mahogany table was set with fine crystal flutes, sterling silver cutlery, and arrangements of white roses. Towering crystal chandeliers overhead cast a brilliant, warm glow across the room, illuminating the fair, rosy complexions of the assembled guests.
It was eight o'clock in the evening.
Vivien Sterling sat near the head of the table, looking radiant and triumphant. She wore an even more dramatic ensemble tonight—a floor-length, shimmering emerald-green gown, heavy emerald-and-diamond necklaces, and her massive engagement ring. Her blonde hair was styled into an immaculate chignon. Sitting across from her were her legal advisors from New York and her brother, Julian Sterling, both men wearing expensive tuxedos and sipping vintage champagne.
Sitting at the far end of the table was Lorenzo Duca.
He looked devastatingly handsome and utterly commanding in a bespoke black tuxedo, his fitted white shirt crisp against his dark skin, his thick dark-brown hair swept back. He sat back in his high-backed chair, a crystal glass of bourbon in his hand, his gray eyes calmly watching the room like a chess grandmaster surveying a board he had already won.
Standing quietly along the perimeter of the room were Rocco Bennett and six elite guards in tailored suits, their hands folded discreetly in front of them.
"Lorenzo, darling," Vivien purred, lifting her champagne glass, her voice carrying across the polished table. "This dinner is absolutely magnificent. My brother and the legal team were just saying how wonderful it is that your mother was able to rest today."
"Yes," Lorenzo replied smoothly, his deep voice rich and unhurried. "My mother had a remarkably clear day today, Vivien. In fact, her doctor discontinued her previous medication this morning. The confusion seems to have vanished entirely."
Vivien’s smile twitched for a fraction of a second, her manicured fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. "Oh... really? That is... wonderful news, darling."
"It is," Lorenzo agreed, setting his glass down with a soft click. "And speaking of special guests, we have one final arrival joining us for dessert."
The heavy double doors of the dining room swung open.
Rocco Bennett stepped aside, allowing two guards to escort a tall, sharp-featured man in a dark suit into the room.
It was Julian Vane.
Vivien’s face drained of color in a single, horrifying second. She gasped, dropping her champagne glass. The crystal shattered against the mahogany table, spilling golden wine across the white linen cloth.
"Julian?" Vivien stammered, her high-society composure violently fracturing. "What... what are you doing here?"
Julian Vane looked around the room, his eyes wide with sudden, sickening panic as he realized the guards standing behind him were blocking the exit.
"Vivien... you said the estate was clear," Vane hissed, looking frantically at Lorenzo. "You said he was signing the land deeds!"
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Lorenzo did not stand up. He remained seated at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair, his gray eyes locking onto Vivien with a cold, terrifying detachment that made the air in the room turn to ice.
"She lied to you, Vane," Lorenzo said softly. "Just like she lied to everyone else in this house."
