Chapter 6 - Whispers in the Grand Ballroom

The ballroom was a masterpiece of crystal chandeliers, cascading white roses, and tuxedo-clad elites sipping champagne. Whispers rippled through the crowd as the doors opened and Grant Holloway made his grand entrance.
And he didn't come alone.
Grant walked arm-in-arm with Sloane Mercer. Sloane was draped in a liquid gold silk gown, her dark hair cascading in Hollywood waves, wearing the exact diamond necklace Grant had fastened around her neck in the anniversary video. They moved with the swagger of conquerors, smiling for the cameras, completely intoxicated by their own perceived invincibility.
Society columnists immediately began murmuring. Bringing a junior employee—and an obvious mistress—to the premier family foundation gala was an act of staggering audacity.
From the mezzanine level, I watched them sip champagne near the front tables. Grant scanned the room, looking for me, expecting to find a broken, weeping wife hiding in the corners. Instead, I remained out of sight in the VIP holding area behind the main stage, reviewing the digital files displayed on the venue's massive projection monitors.
Daniel Mercer stepped into the backstage room beside me, holding a secure tablet.
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“The federal marshals are stationed outside the service exits, and the forensic auditors have locked down the corporate servers,” Daniel whispered. “Are you entirely sure you want to do this this way, Evelyn?”
I looked out through the velvet curtain at the glowing crowd below. “My father built this empire on truth and strength, Daniel. It’s time to sweep out the trash.”