Chapter 8 - The Society Gala
Two weeks later.
The city’s annual Business and Arts Charity Gala was held at the grand ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton downtown. It was the premier event for the region’s elite—the very crowd my mother and sister had spent years desperately trying to impress.
Before I returned, Jennifer had bragged to the local society columns that she was co-chairing the gala’s host committee, using my foundation's promised $500,000 donation to buy her way into the center of high society.
That night, the ballroom was packed with multi-millionaires, politicians, and media reporters.
Jennifer, wearing an expensive emerald gown she had bought on credit before the freeze, stood near the VIP bar with a glass of champagne, trying to maintain her composure despite the rumors circulating about her sudden eviction. My mother sat at a side table, looking nervous and pale.
At 8:30 PM, the grand double doors of the ballroom opened.
A hush swept through the room as the master of ceremonies announced:
"Presenting the principal benefactor of tonight’s gala, Chief Executive Officer of Duca Global Hospitality, Mr. Ethan Duca... and his wife, Mrs. Emma Duca."
Every head turned.
I walked into the ballroom wearing a flawless velvet tuxedo. But all eyes were on Emma.
She looked breathtaking. She wore an exquisite custom silk gown in deep sapphire blue, her dark hair styled in an elegant updo, exposing her neck where the six-carat diamond necklace glittered under the chandeliers. She walked with effortless grace, holding my arm, her head held high, radiating beauty, dignity, and absolute power.
Jennifer dropped her champagne glass. It shattered against the marble floor, red wine splashing across her emerald dress.
"Emma?" my sister whispered in sheer, horrified shock.
The mayor of the city and his wife immediately stepped forward, greeting us with broad smiles and warm handshakes.
"Ethan! Emma! Welcome!" the mayor beamed. "We are so honored by your foundation’s incredible generosity! The city’s new arts wing will be named the Emma Duca Cultural Center!"
Flashbulbs exploded as news photographers swarmed around us, capturing images of Emma smiling, greeting city leaders, and accepting accolades from the highest tier of society.
Jennifer tried to push her way through the crowd toward us, her face contorted in frantic desperation. "Ethan! Ethan, please! Talk to me! The police came to my house this morning! They served me with grand jury subpoenas!"
I turned slowly, looking at my sister as if she were a total stranger.
"This is a private charity event, Miss Duca," I said calmly, loud enough for the reporters nearby to hear. "Please refrain from creating a scene."
"Miss Duca?!" Jennifer gasped, her eyes wide with tears. "I'm your sister! Emma, tell him! Tell him to drop the charges! We're family!"
Emma stepped forward, looking down at Jennifer with cool, calm pity.
"Family doesn't hand you a scrub brush and tell you that you're nothing, Jennifer," Emma said softly, her voice carrying clearly over the hushed crowd. "You built your life on lies and cruelty. Now you have to live with the truth."
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Two tall hotel security guards stepped up behind Jennifer, grabbing her arms firmly.
"Ma'am, you need to leave the premises immediately," the head security officer said, escorting her away as flashbulbs snapped frantically, capturing the disgraced socialite being thrown out of the gala.
