Chapter 13 - The Trap Set
The heavy velvet curtains at the side of the ballroom parted slightly,
and David slipped inside behind a tray of champagne glasses carried by a waiter.
His palms were slick with cold sweat,
his heart hammering violently against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Behind him,
Chloe stood near the shadow of a marble pillar,
clutching her evening bag,
her face pale with nervous energy.
Julian Vance moved toward the press section near the left side of the stage,
holding the leather briefcase filled with forged inspection documents.
“Is everything ready?”
David whispered frantically into a tiny earpiece he was wearing.
“Yes,”
Julian’s voice came back through the receiver.
“The press packets are ready.”
“The moment Eleanor takes the microphone to accept her award,”
“I will step up to the secondary podium and distribute these reports to the New York Times and Wall Street Journal reporters.”
“The headlines tomorrow morning will ruin her firm,
freeze her credit lines,
and launch a municipal investigation that will take years to clear.”
David looked across the dazzling ballroom,
spotting me sitting at the head table,
surrounded by dignitaries,
smiling effortlessly,
radiating wealth,
power,
and total tranquility.
A surge of burning,
poisonous envy scorched through David’s veins.
That should have been his life.
He should have been sitting at that table,
drinking champagne,
wearing five-thousand-dollar suits,
and receiving the applause of Manhattan’s elite.
Instead,
he was living in a rat-infested basement,
smelling of engine grease,
and facing a lifetime of debt.
“She destroyed me,”
David muttered to himself,
his teeth grinding together in the dark corner.
“She turned my mother into a beggar,
she put my father in a cold room,
and she made me a laughingstock.”
“Tonight,
she pays for everything.”
What David did not know was that directly above his head,
in the private audio-visual control booth overlooking the entire ballroom,
Marcus Vance and two senior officers from the New York Police Department’s Financial Crimes Division were standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
They were monitoring every word passing through David’s wireless earpiece,
recording the signal in real-time onto high-capacity digital drives.
“We have clear audio confirmation of intent to commit extortion,
corporate defamation,
and fraud,”
the senior detective said,
adjusting his headset.
“Should we move in now,
Mr. Vance?”
Marcus looked through the glass window down at the glowing stage,
where the master of ceremonies was stepping up to the microphone to announce the winner of the Preservation Award of the Year.
“Not yet,
Detective,”
Marcus smiled softly.
“Mrs. Hayes requested that we allow the curtain to rise fully on their performance.”
“Let Mr. Hayes enjoy his illusion for two more minutes.”
Down on the main floor,
the master of ceremonies tapped the microphone,
and the hushed chatter of five hundred distinguished guests instantly died down.
“Ladies and gentlemen,”
the announcer’s voice boomed across the high-end speaker system,
echoing off the crystal chandeliers.
“It is my distinct honor to present the 2026 Urban Preservationist of the Year Award.”
“This year,
the unanimous choice of the board goes to a visionary leader whose integrity,
dedication,
and brilliant craftsmanship have restored the architectural soul of our city.”
“Please join me in welcoming...
Mrs. Eleanor Hayes!”
The ballroom erupted into thunderous applause.
Spotlights swept across the room,
illuminating me as I stood up gracefully from my table.
I smiled at the audience,
nodded politely to the mayor,
and began my walk toward the stairs leading to the main stage.
David gripped the edge of the marble pillar,
his eyes wild with excitement.
“Now,
Julian!”
May you like
David hissed into his earpiece.
“Do it now!”
