Chapter 7 - Victoria Vance’s Public Humiliation At The Pentagon Gala
The battlefield shifted to the grand ballroom of the Hilton Washington for the annual Department of Defense Aerospace Leadership Gala.
Over six hundred corporate CEOs, four-star generals, senators, and foreign defense ministers packed the glittering hall.
Marcus Vance and his daughter Victoria held court at the center VIP table, boasting to international investors about the upcoming fifty-billion-dollar missile defense contract that Vance Defense Dynamics was scheduled to sign with the Pentagon on Friday.
Victoria wore a lavish sixty-thousand-dollar designer gown, sipping champagne, laughing loudly.
“The Parker name is dead,” Victoria told a group of foreign delegates. “Vance Defense owns the skies.”
The grand double doors of the ballroom swung open.
The master of ceremonies stepped to the podium, his voice echoing through the silent hall:
“Announcing the Commander of Special Defense Intelligence Group Nine, Colonel Harrison Cole... and First Lieutenant Claire Parker, heir to the Parker Aerospace Dynasty.”
The entire ballroom went dead silent.
I walked down the grand marble staircase wearing my dress blue military uniform, perfectly tailored, my silver lieutenant bars gleaming under the chandeliers, walking tall and radiant on Harrison’s arm.
Harrison looked devastatingly handsome in his service dress uniform, his combat ribbons and command eagles commanding absolute deference.
Marcus Vance dropped his crystal champagne glass.
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It shattered on the parquet floor with a deafening crash, splashing red wine across his shoes.
Victoria’s face drained of every ounce of color, her mouth hanging open in sheer, paralyzed horror as the six hundred executives in the room turned to stare at the rightful heir of the technology they had come to celebrate.
