Chapter 5 - The Night of the Gala
Tuesday evening arrived under a dark, velvet winter sky.
The Grand Ballroom of the St. Louis Riverfront Hotel was spectacular. Crystal chandeliers hung from three-story ceilings, casting brilliant light over four hundred guests dressed in tuxedos and floor-length gowns.
Senators, tech billionaires, foreign investors, and the entire board of directors of Northstar Robotics were in attendance.
Sitting at a prominent front-row table was Richard Vance, surrounded by his Chicago investment syndicate.
Richard was sipping champagne, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
“The vote is locked,” Richard whispered to his associate. “Forty-eight percent of the shares are committed. Once I deliver the motion on stage, two more board members will flip. By midnight, Claire Whitmore will be a former executive.”
At the back of the ballroom, behind a set of heavy velvet curtains, stood Claire’s private preparation room.
Outside the door stood two security guards. Inside, Lucy Reed sat on a velvet sofa, wearing a bright yellow dress with matching ribbons in her dark curls, happily eating a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
Mason stood near the window, wearing a rented charcoal tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders surprisingly well. He looked nervous, adjusting his black bowtie every ten seconds.
“Stop pulling at it,” a soft voice commanded.
Mason turned.
Claire stepped out from behind a dressing screen.
The room seemed to lose its oxygen.
Claire was wearing an exquisite midnight-blue evening gown designed with concealed, ultra-thin silk panels along the legs. Beneath the gown, completely hidden from view, was the Orion Mark IV exoskeleton.
She was sitting in her titanium wheelchair, her posture straight, her dark hair flowing in soft waves over her shoulders. She wore a diamond necklace that caught the ambient light.
“You look...” Mason swallowed hard, his voice dropping into a low, breathless whisper. “You look incredible, Claire.”
Claire smiled, a subtle blush touching her cheeks. “You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Reed. Rented tuxedos usually don't fit that well.”
Lucy bounced off the sofa. “You look like a princess! A sky princess!”
Claire laughed, reaching out to hug the little girl. “Thank you, Lucy. And thank you for coming tonight.”
“I brought my lucky crayon,” Lucy announced, pulling a purple crayon from her small purse. “In case you need to draw more flowers.”
A sharp knock sounded at the door. Arthur stepped inside, looking at his watch.
“It’s time, Ms. Whitmore,” Arthur said, his voice tight with anticipation. “Richard Vance has just taken the stage to deliver his opening address.”
Claire’s smile faded, replaced by an expression of cold, terrifying resolve.
She looked at Mason.
Mason walked over, dropping to one knee beside her wheelchair. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tight.
“Trust the suit,” Mason whispered. “Trust yourself.”
May you like
“I trust you,” Claire replied quietly.
She rolled her wheelchair out of the room, followed by Mason, Lucy, and Dr. Thorne, heading toward the main stage wings.
