Chapter 9 - The Victory Gala
The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a masterpiece of gilded opulence. Thousands of crystal lights illuminated the absolute elite of the global financial world. I stood in the shadows near the service entrance, wearing a cheap, rented tuxedo that chafed against my neck, clutching my briefcase like a lifeline.
Then, the crowd parted, and all the air left my lungs.
Claire walked into the room. She was wearing a flawless, midnight-blue silk gown that fit like armor. She radiated a profound, untouchable power. Flanked by billionaires and senators, she moved with the effortless grace of a woman who completely owned her universe. She wasn't the quiet, compliant wife I had kept hidden in my penthouse. She was a titan.
I felt a sickening cocktail of awe, regret, and sheer, burning hatred.
I opened my briefcase, resting the laptop on a catering table hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain. I booted up the terminal. I had a direct line of sight to the massive digital displays behind the main stage, which were currently tracking the real-time, soaring stock valuation of her new empire.
Claire stepped up to the podium. The entire ballroom fell into a hushed, reverent silence.
"A year ago, I was told that a woman's place was in the background," Claire’s voice echoed through the massive room, smooth and lethal. "Today, we prove that the only place we belong is at the helm of the future."
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause.
I typed the final execution command into my terminal. My finger hovered over the enter key. I looked at her radiant, victorious smile.
"Goodbye, Claire," I whispered to myself, and slammed the key down.
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I watched the progress bar hit one hundred percent. I waited for the massive screens behind her to flash red, for the alarms to sound, for the panic to set in as her billions evaporated into the digital ether.
But the screens didn't flash red.
