Chapter 3 - The Gala of Reckoning
Three weeks later.
The Grand Ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton in downtown Toronto was bathed in shimmering gold light. The annual North American Economic Leadership Summit was in full swing, attended by billionaire investors, corporate titans, and diplomatic figures from across the globe.
Emily Bennett stood near the glass balcony, sipping a glass of sparkling water. She looked breathtaking. She wore an off-the-shoulder, emerald-green velvet gown that hugged her curves effortlessly, paired with simple pearl earrings. She wore no wedding ring, no ostentatious diamonds—just pure, understated elegance and undeniable authority.
Beside her stood Julian Vance, the thirty-eight-year-old CEO of Vance Global Logistics and one of Canada’s most eligible, respected bachelors. Julian was tall, sharp-witted, and possessed a quiet, grounded confidence that had made working with him over the last month a refreshing relief for Emily.
"You look distant, Emily," Julian said softly, offering her a warm, genuine smile as he motioned toward the crowd. "Is the Toronto press overwhelming you?"
"Not at all, Julian," Emily smiled back softly. "I was just appreciating how quiet peace can feel."
"Well, enjoy the peace while it lasts," Julian chuckled softly. "Word around the floor is that a certain uninvited guest from Chicago forced his way into the summit tonight by buying out an entire table at the last minute."
Emily’s smile didn't fade, but her eyes turned into hardened blue ice. "Alexander."
"Do you want me to have security clear him out?" Julian asked immediately, his tone turning protective. "You’re the guest of honor tonight, Emily. You don't have to face him."
"No," Emily replied calmly, setting her glass down on a passing waiter's tray. "Let him come. Running away was for when I was grieving. Now, I have work to do."
At the entrance of the ballroom, the crowd parted in a sudden, uncomfortable murmur.
Alexander Hayes walked in.
He looked terrible compared to the polished billionaire the media usually covered. He had lost weight, his jawline was rough with dark stubble, and his tuxedo looked as if it had been thrown on without care. His eyes scanned the room with a feverish, desperate intensity—until they locked onto the balcony.
Onto Emily.
Alexander’s heart stopped. She looked more radiant, more powerful, and more hauntingly beautiful than she ever had in Chicago. But as he took a step toward her, he saw the man standing beside her—Julian Vance—placing a gentle, respectful hand on the small of Emily’s back as he leaned in to whisper something to her.
A surge of toxic, ugly jealousy exploded in Alexander’s chest.
He marched across the ballroom floor, ignoring the whispered hushes of the elite guests surrounding them.
"Emily!" he called out, his voice sharp and crackling with suppressed emotion.
Emily didn't jump. She didn't flinch. She slowly turned around, meeting his frantic gaze with a look so chillingly vacant that Alexander felt as if he had been struck by an arctic frost.
"Mr. Hayes," Emily said, her tone professional, distant, and perfectly polite. "I didn't realize Hayes Enterprise held an interest in Canadian infrastructure."
Alexander stopped two feet away from her. His breath was ragged. "Emily... please. Stop calling me Mr. Hayes. Look at me. Please, just look at me."
"Is there a business proposal you wish to present to Bennett & Sterling, sir?" Emily continued, her voice entirely devoid of personal connection. "If so, you can schedule an appointment through my executive secretary on Monday morning."
"Emily, stop this!" Alexander rasped out, his hands trembling as he reached toward her arm. "I flew here to see you! I don't care about the logistics deal! I don't care about the business! I came for you!"
Before Alexander’s hand could touch Emily’s sleeve, Julian Vance stepped forward, placing his broad frame between Alexander and Emily.
"Mr. Hayes," Julian said calmly, his voice deep and authoritative. "You are invading Ms. Bennett's personal space. I suggest you take a step back."
Alexander’s eyes snapped to Julian, burning with dangerous rage. "Stay out of this, Vance! This is between me and my wife!"
"Former husband," Emily corrected smoothly, stepping out from behind Julian. She looked Alexander straight in the eyes. "The final divorce decree was executed by the Cook County Circuit Court yesterday, Alexander. You received the signed service papers this morning. We are legally strangers."
Alexander flinched as if slapped across the face. "I didn't sign them! I’ll never sign them!"
"It was a default judgment based on abandonment and non-contested assets," Emily said quietly. "Your signature wasn't required."
"Emily, please," Alexander pleaded, his pride completely shattering right in front of two hundred powerful onlookers. Tears pooled in his bloodshot eyes. "I made a mistake! A terrible, unforgivable mistake! I was blind! I was stupid! I’ve fired everyone... I kicked Olivia out of my life! I cut off Madison! I’m selling the casinos! I’ll move to Toronto... I’ll give up everything! Just let me fix this!"
The ballroom fell into a dead silence. The powerful tycoon of Chicago was begging on his knees in front of the woman he had discarded.
Emily looked down at him. For a fraction of a second, Alexander hoped to see a flicker of sadness, rage, or hurt—anything that showed she still felt something for him.
Instead, Emily just looked tired.
"You can't fix a grave with money, Alexander," Emily said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying across the silent ballroom like a thunderclap. "You couldn't give Grace one hour of your time when she was alive. Do not use her memory to play the martyr now."
She turned away from him, looking at Julian. "Julian, the noise in here is giving me a headache. Would you escort me to our dinner reservations?"
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"With pleasure, Emily," Julian offered his arm.
Emily took Julian’s arm effortlessly. She walked past Alexander without a second backward glance, her emerald gown trailing behind her, leaving Alexander Hayes standing alone in the center of the room as hushed whispers and pitying glares swallowed him whole.
