Chapter 11 - The Trap at the Gala
Roman picked up the receiver with a sharp frown.
"Calder."
Marco's voice crackled through the speaker, breathless and tense.
"Boss. Evelyn made bail. Her father posted ten million cash twenty minutes ago."
Roman's grip on the phone turned white.
"Under what conditions?"
"Full house arrest, but there's a loophole," Marco reported.
"Her legal team invoked the Maritime Foundation Annual Charity Gala tonight at
the Belvedere Hotel. She’s scheduled as the honorary chairperson. The judge
granted her a four-hour pass under federal escort."
Roman's jaw twitched.
"She's not going to a charity gala. She's running."
"Her family's private yacht is fueling at Pier 11 right now," Marco added.
"She intends to show her face at the gala for twenty minutes, slip out the
service entrance, and leave international waters before midnight."
Roman slammed the phone down.
A chilling aura of danger radiated from his body.
"She thinks she can walk away," Roman muttered.
He grabbed his dark suit jacket from the chair.
"I'm coming with you," I said immediately.
Roman stopped and looked at me.
"Nora, you are still recovering. It will be chaotic. The press will be
everywhere."
"Evelyn told me that people like me are invisible," I said, holding his gaze
without flinching.
"She told me I had no voice."
I stepped forward, my chin held high.
"I want her to look me in the eye when the handcuffs go back on."
Roman stared at me for three long seconds.
A slow, breathtaking smile curved his lips.
"Then let's make sure she sees you."
An hour later, the grand ballroom of the Belvedere Hotel was alive with diamond
necklaces, tuxedoes, and champagne glasses.
The elite of Baltimore whispered among themselves, watching Evelyn Sterling
stand near the champagne tower.
She wore an emerald green designer gown, a silk choker hiding the panic in her
throat.
Her private security hovered near the kitchen exit.
She raised a glass, forcing a dazzling, brittle smile for the photographers.
"Thank you all for your steadfast support during these ridiculous
misunderstandings," she declared smoothly into a microphone.
BANG.
The grand ballroom double doors swung open with a resounding crack.
The music died instantly.
A hundred heads turned in unison.
Roman Calder strode into the hall.
He looked breathtakingly powerful in a tailored charcoal tuxedo.
And on his arm—
I walked beside him.
I wore a midnight-blue velvet gown that swept the marble floor.
My hair was pinned up, revealing the healing mark on my jaw not as a shame, but
as a medal of survival.
My bandaged wrists were covered by elegant dark silk gloves.
The flashbulbs erupted like a thunderstorm.
Whispers swept through the room like wildfire.
"Is that... Calder's cook?" someone gasped.
"Good God, look at her..."
Evelyn's champagne glass slipped from her fingers.
May you like
It shattered across the marble floor, spraying crystal and sparkling wine across
her emerald hem.
