Chapter 11 – THE MAID AT THE GALA

The grand ballroom of the downtown hotel was dripping in crystal and gold.

The most powerful families in the city were gathered, sipping champagne, their eyes tracking Gabriel and me the moment we stepped off the private elevator.

I wore a floor-length emerald silk gown. My hair was swept up, and Gabriel’s sapphire ring gleamed on my hand. I held my head high, ignoring the whispers.

She was the maid.

She served the soup at his engagement dinner.

Sloane is in prison because of her.

Let them whisper.

Gabriel kept his hand firmly on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd.

Suddenly, the crowd parted.

Victor stepped into our path. He looked older, tired, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped cane. Without Sloane, his power in the city was crumbling.

“Gabriel,” Victor sneered. “You look entirely too comfortable for a man whose shipping routes I still control.”

Gabriel didn’t flinch.

“You don’t control anything anymore, Victor,” Gabriel said calmly.

Victor laughed. “I have Thomas’s signed contracts. They are ironclad.”

“Thomas’s contracts were signed under extortion,” I spoke up.

Victor’s eyes snapped to me. “Keep quiet, girl. This is men’s business.”

I didn’t shrink back. I reached into my evening clutch and pulled out the folded piece of paper—the ledger from Thomas’s watch.

I handed it to Victor.

Victor unfolded it. As he read Thomas’s frantic handwriting detailing the blackmail, the color drained from his face.

“This proves you extorted a member of the Mancini family,” Gabriel said softly, stepping closer to Victor. “If I show this to the commission tonight, they won’t just void the contracts. They will strip you of your seat and exile you.”

Victor’s hands shook. He looked at Gabriel, then at me. He realized he was completely defeated.

“What do you want?” Victor choked out.

“I want the routes returned to my holding company by midnight,” Gabriel said. “And I want you to retire. Move to Florida, Victor. If I see your face in Philadelphia again, I give the ledger to the board.”

Victor crushed the paper in his fist, turned on his heel, and walked out of the ballroom without another word.

Gabriel turned to me, a slow, incredibly proud smile spreading across his face.

“You did that,” he said softly.

“We did that,” I corrected.

The orchestra began to play a slow waltz.

Gabriel bowed slightly, offering me his hand. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Mancini?”

“Not quite yet,” I smiled, taking his hand. “The wedding is next month.”

He pulled me flush against his chest as we moved onto the dance floor. The whispers around us faded into background noise.

I looked up at the man who had changed my life, the man who loved my son, the man who had fought through hell to stand right here.

I rested my head against his shoulder. My knee didn’t hurt anymore. The fear was gone.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t serving the dinner.

I was finally sitting at the table.

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