Chapter 5 - The Gala of Retribution
The annual Moretti Foundation Charity Gala was the most exclusive event on Chicago's social calendar. Held at the Drake Hotel, it was the night before the official council vote, where the city’s elite, politicians, and syndicate bosses gathered to pay homage to the ruling family.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the master suite of Nikolai’s penthouse, adjusting the diamond drop earrings that matched the Imperium ring. I wore a backless midnight-blue velvet gown that clung to every curve, ending in a dramatic train.
A pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
Nikolai pulled me back against his chest, his head resting in the crook of my neck, his dark eyes meeting mine in the mirror reflection.
"You look breath-taking, mia cara," he whispered, his voice low and raspy.
Over the last ten days, the fake alliance between us had shifted into something terrifyingly real. We worked together until late at night, unraveling my father's empire, securing council votes, and trading soft, lingering touches in the dark corridors of his penthouse. Every time he looked at me, my breath caught. Every time he touched me, the cold wall around my heart melted a little more.
"Are you ready for tonight?" I asked, turning in his arms, resting my hands against his broad chest.
"Tonight, we finish this," Nikolai said, his eyes burning with intense devotion. "Your father and mother are attending. So are Julian and Serena."
"Good," I said, a dangerous smile touching my lips. "I brought a gift for them."
An hour later, we entered the Drake Hotel ballroom.
The atmosphere was suffocatingly glamorous. Crystal chandeliers threw brilliant light over tables laden with caviar, champagne, and orchids.
The moment Nikolai and I entered, the entire room shifted. The capos, the politicians, the high-society elites—they all bowed their heads slightly as we passed. I was no longer the forgotten Hart sister. I was the future queen of Chicago.
My mother approached us almost immediately, dragging my father behind her. Eleanor was wearing a pale pink gown, trying desperately to look composed, though her eyes were twitching with nervous rage.
"Evelyn!" my mother hissed, pulling me aside while my father stood awkwardly near Nikolai. "You have gone completely mad! Do you know what you're doing to this family? Serena is crying herself to sleep every night because Julian is losing his standing!"
"Serena got what she wanted, Mother," I said calmly, taking a sip of my champagne. "She got Julian."
"Julian is broke!" my father spat, stepping closer, his voice low and angry. "The Moretti council is freezing his allowances! Arthur's company is being audited by federal agents because of the documents you leaked!"
"I didn't leak them to the feds, Father," I corrected smoothly, leaning closer so only he could hear. "I leaked them to Nikolai. And tomorrow morning, when Nikolai is officially crowned Don, he will be foreclosing on Hart Logistics."
My father gasped, clutching his chest. "You... you ruthless viper! I am your father!"
"And I was your daughter," I whispered, my voice cold as ice. "The daughter who worked eighty hours a week for you while you gave everything to Serena. The daughter you told not to embarrass you when her heart was broken in public."
Before my father could speak, a commotion broke out near the main stage.
Julian, clearly drunk, stepped onto the platform, grabbing a microphone from the band leader. Serena was trying frantically to pull his sleeve, her face red with embarrassment.
"Listen to me! Everyone listen!" Julian shouted into the microphone, his voice slurred and hysterical. "This whole thing is a farce! Nikolai manipulated my fiancée! Evelyn is a fraud! She’s been working with federal prosecutors to take down the Moretti family!"
The ballroom gasped. Capos reached into their jackets. The air turned lethal.
Nikolai didn't flinch. He walked calmly toward the stage, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed.
"Julian," Nikolai said softly, his voice carrying over the silence without needing a microphone. "You are drunk. Step down."
"She’s a spy, Nikolai!" Julian screamed, pointing wildly at me. "Ask her about the encrypted file on her flash drive! She downloaded our dock manifest three days ago!"
I stepped forward into the spotlight, pulling a small silver flash drive from my velvet clutch bag.
"Julian is right about one thing," I said clearly, my voice echoing through the grand hall. "I did download a file. But it wasn't a dock manifest."
I signaled to Marcus, Nikolai’s head of IT, who was standing near the media control board. Marcus plugged a secondary drive into the main ballroom projector.
The massive screen behind the stage lit up.
It was an audio recording with matching text transcripts—a secret phone call between Julian Hart, Arthur Hart, and a high-ranking federal prosecutor, dated four weeks ago.
Julian’s voice echoed loudly over the speakers: "Once I marry Evelyn and secure the Hart backing, I will give you Nikolai’s offshore routes. Just make sure the indictment hits him after I’m crowned Don."
The room exploded.
Capos slammed their fists onto tables. Men stood up, roaring in fury.
Julian stared at the screen in complete, paralyzed horror. He looked at my father, then at me.
He hadn't been planning to sell out my father. He had been planning to sell out Nikolai—and my father had been his accomplice.
Don Vincenzo stepped onto the stage, his face dark as a thundercloud. He looked at Julian, then signaled to two broad-shouldered enforcers.
"Take him away," Vincenzo ordered coldly. "And take Arthur Hart with him."
As the guards dragged Julian and my screaming father out through the side doors, Serena dropped to her knees on the stage, sobbing hysterically, completely abandoned and humiliated before the entire city.
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My mother stood paralyzed in the middle of the room, looking around at the hostile faces of Chicago's most powerful people, realizing her entire world had collapsed in a single night.
Nikolai walked back to me, wrapping his arm around my waist, kissing my temple as the capos began to raise their glasses to us.
