Chapter 5 - The Tables Turn
The silence in the ballroom was absolute, save for the low, melancholy wail of the saxophone from the jazz band.
Ethan didn't head for Table 42. He walked with measured, unhurried steps straight toward Table One—the very table reserved for Holloway’s highest-tier partners. Mason and two security operatives flanked him at a discreet distance, their dark suits and cold, professional eyes making it abundantly clear that no usher, bouncer, or guest was going to interfere.
Lily walked beside her father, her chin held high, displaying the exact "unimpressed diplomat" expression she had practiced in her bedroom mirror.
As they approached, Grant Holloway’s face flushed a deep, mottled purple. He slammed his scotch glass down onto the table so hard that amber liquid splashed over the white linen cloth.
“Cole!” Grant barked, stepping forward, his voice cutting through the quiet room. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Security!”
Before Grant could finish his sentence, two of Holloway’s private bouncers in tactical gear rushed forward from the side doors.
They didn't even make it two steps.
Mason stepped smoothly into their path, his hand casually moving inside his jacket. He didn't draw a weapon, but the cold, dead look in his eyes stopped the bouncers dead in their tracks. A subtle flash of a federal tactical badge tucked inside Mason’s lapel made the head bouncer instantly pale, throw his hand up to warn his partner off, and take two steps backward into the shadows.
Ethan stopped two feet from Grant and Vanessa.
He didn't look angry. He looked profoundly, almost pityingly, amused.
“Grant,” Ethan said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the silent room. “You really shouldn't host parties in buildings you haven't finished paying for yet.”
Grant’s jaw dropped. “You—you arrogant piece of trash! You were fired from this company because you couldn't handle basic code management! You were living off food stamps in a basement!”
Vanessa finally found her voice. She stepped around her husband, her emerald gown rustling sharply, her face twisted in a mask of bitter disbelief.
“Ethan,” she hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. “How did you get in here? Who invited you? This is a private event for Holloway Crest partners!”
Ethan reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket, pulled out the heavy cream-colored envelope edged in gold, and laid it gently on the center of Table One.
“You did, Vanessa,” Ethan said softly. “You specifically requested my presence. You said it might be good for me to see that I landed on my feet.”
He let out a quiet breath, his dark eyes sweeping over the glittering ballroom filled with Seattle’s most powerful people.
“And you know what? You were right. It is good to see how things turned out.”
Vanessa stared at the invitation, her chest heaving. “That... that was a joke. You were supposed to sit in the back. You were supposed to feel small.”
“Small?” Ethan chuckled. He turned to Lily, who was looking around the massive room with polite boredom. “What do you think, Lils? Is this smaller or bigger than our house?”
“Definitely smaller, Dad,” Lily said clearly, her young voice ringing out across the silent ballroom. “And the lighting is really aggressive.”
A muffled snort of laughter came from Table Two, where Arthur Sterling was casually sipping his champagne.
Grant’s face turned from purple to a sickly gray. He looked around the room, noticing for the first time that half the investors in the room—men and women whose capital kept Holloway Crest afloat—were staring at him not with admiration, but with sudden, sharp suspicion.
“Get out of my sight, Cole,” Grant snarled, his voice rising in panic. “Before I have you thrown off this property and blacklisted from every tech firm on the West Coast.”
Ethan didn't flinch. Instead, he reached into his pocket again, pulled out a slim titanium smartphone, and tapped the screen twice.
“You won’t be blacklisting anyone today, Grant,” Ethan said quietly.
At that exact second, every smartphone, tablet, and smart display belonging to the three hundred guests in the ballroom buzzed simultaneously.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
A collective wave of confusion swept through the room as investors, politicians, and reporters pulled phones from pockets and purses to check the alert.
Mason’s voice came quietly through Ethan’s hidden earpiece. “Federal indictments just hit the newswires, boss. Department of Justice public affairs portal just dropped the whole package.”
Grant’s phone, resting beside his scotch glass, began vibrating violently.
May you like
He looked down at the screen.
Then he looked up at Ethan, the color draining entirely from his face.
