Chapter 3 - The Unveiling of the QueenThe entire ballroom went dead silent.
A path parted smoothly through the center aisle as four broad-shouldered private security operators in dark suits stepped forward, clearing the corridor.
Walking down the velvet carpet, wearing the breathtaking midnight-blue Laurent silk gown, her dark hair falling in glossy, royal waves, the seventy-carat sapphire necklace burning like blue fire against her throat, was me.
Beside me walked my Chief Legal Officer, Bridget Colton, and Lead Prosecutor Rachel Hayes from the United States Attorney’s Office.
Julian Vance’s scotch glass slipped from his fingers, crashing flat against the marble floorboards, shattering into a hundred glittering shards.
Beatrice Vance gasped so violently she choked on her wine, her mink stole slipping from her shoulders onto the chair. Evelyn’s jaw sagged open in total, speech-bound horror, her face turning an ugly, paper-white shade of green.
Victoria Carter froze, her red lips parted in a mask of pure, panic-stricken shock.
"C... Clara...?!" Julian stammered, his voice cracking into a high, pathetic squeak as he jumped out of his chair, stumbling over his own trousers. "What... what are you doing here?! How did you get in here in those clothes?!"
I stopped directly in front of Table One.
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I didn't yell. I didn't slap him. I looked down at my husband of eight years, his mistress, his mother, and his sister with a quiet, weightless coldness that dropped the room's temperature below freezing.
"You told me two hours ago that everything I have exists because of you, Julian," I spoke softly. My velvet baritone carried clearly across the quiet ballroom through the surrounding microphones. "I came to show you the company that keeps your firm alive."
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