Chapter 5 - Shadows at the Gala
Friday evening arrived in a deluge of spring thunder and flashing blue lights. The grand ballroom of the Oseni Midtown Hotel—a fifty-story tower of black glass and gold leaf—was packed with Atlanta’s political elite, corporate titans, and foreign dignitaries.
Chandeliers worth hundreds of thousands of dollars hung from the gilded ceiling, casting a dazzling light over tables draped in white silk and covered in silver champagne buckets.
I stood near the entrance in a tailored tuxedo, a glass of sparkling water in my hand. Beside me, my uncle Arthur Oseni was holding court with a group of Swiss bankers.
Arthur was sixty-five, with slicked-back silver hair, a manicured beard, and the posture of an aristocrat. He looked at me with a mixture of mild condescension and utter confidence—the same look he had given me for twenty years whenever I asked too many questions about company dividends.
“Henry, my boy,” Arthur laughed, clapping a heavy, ring-adorned hand onto my shoulder. “You look remarkably tense tonight! Relax! By midnight, the buyout contract will be signed. You’ll be five hundred million dollars richer, and you can spend the rest of your life playing golf in St. Andrews!”
“I’ve never liked golf, Arthur,” I said evenly, staring straight into his cold gray eyes.
Arthur chuckled, though his grip on my shoulder tightened slightly. “Always so serious. Just remember to smile for the photographers during the signing ceremony at nine o’clock. The media loves the image of the grieving nephew passing the torch to his devoted uncle.”
“Devoted,” I repeated softly. “Yes. You’ve sacrificed so much for this family, haven't you?”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly, a momentary flicker of suspicion crossing his face before he smoothed his expression over with a practiced smile. “Enjoy the evening, Henry.”
He turned back to his Swiss guests, completely unaware that eighty security cameras throughout the hotel had been taken over twenty minutes earlier by a team of independent cybersecurity specialists hired by Marcus Vance.
May you like
I glanced toward the service corridor near the catering kitchen.
Standing behind a tray of crystal glasses, wearing a server’s uniform, was Grace. Her gaze met mine across the crowded room—steady, calm, and ready.
