Chapter 3 - The Company Gala
The Ashford & Marsh Annual Investor Gala arrived exactly ten weeks later. I was thirty-two weeks pregnant, carrying the heavy, undeniable weight of our impending reality. The ballroom at the St. Regis was a sea of crystal chandeliers, flowing champagne, and Houston's wealthiest developers.
Derek was in his element, working the room in a sharp black tuxedo, projecting the aura of a man who owned the world. And standing just a few feet away from him, wearing a clinging red satin dress and a smug, proprietary smile, was Paige.
When it was time to sit for dinner, the seating arrangement felt like a deliberate, cruel joke. Derek was seated at the head of the primary investor table. I was seated to his left. And Paige Donnelly, under the guise of "Director of Business Development," was seated to his right.
If anyone wants to understand the sheer, suffocating tension of that exact moment, they only need to look at the file 4_2.jpg. It captures the agonizing reality of the evening perfectly. In the top frame, I am seated in a flowing, elegant white silk maternity gown, my hands resting protectively over my thirty-two-week bump. Derek sits beside me, looking tense, his jaw locked as he attempts to manage the optics of the situation. To his right sits Paige in her red dress, her posture radiating a toxic, arrogant confidence, looking at me as if I were a temporary inconvenience she was waiting to step over. In the bottom frame, the camera catches the exact second I reach into my gold clutch, my eyes fixed on the small, folded piece of paper that is about to end their entire charade.
"Derek, the EaDo project is looking phenomenal," Martin, the lead investor, said from across the table, raising his glass. "Your firm has really outdone itself. With the foundation poured, we are looking at a thirty percent return by next quarter."
"It's a team effort, Martin," Derek smiled smoothly, shooting a meaningful, deeply intimate glance at Paige. "Paige here has been instrumental in securing the vendor contracts. We've spent a lot of late nights making sure this project is flawless."
"Absolutely," Paige chimed in, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. She reached out, her fingers brushing the sleeve of Derek's tuxedo for just a second too long. "Derek is a visionary. I just support his needs."
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I felt my stomach turn, but my hand was perfectly steady as I opened the clasp of my gold clutch.
"Late nights," I repeated, my voice quiet, but carrying clearly over the clinking of crystal and silver. "Yes, I imagine the vendor contracts require a lot of... hands-on attention."
