Chapter 8 - The Queen's ReturnEleanor's Gallery was just as opulent and fake as its owner. Brilliant crystal chandeliers illuminated million-dollar paintings, while dozens of New York's ultra-wealthy sipped champagne and traded empty flattery.
When Alexander’s Maybach pulled up to the red carpet, the flashbulbs of the paparazzi erupted like a lightning storm.
The door opened. Alexander stepped out first, his powerful, icy demeanor instantly silencing the whispers. He turned and offered me his hand.
I stepped out of the car. Tonight, I was not the "tragic wife" or the "deceived woman." I wore a blood-red, floor-length silk gown that hugged my curves, with a plunging back and a daring slit. My hair was swept up into a sharp, elegant twist, my lips were painted a deep crimson, and resting on my collarbone was a multi-million-dollar diamond necklace provided by Alexander.
I placed my hand on his arm and held my head high. We walked into the grand hall like a king and queen arriving to conquer a new territory.
The moment we crossed the threshold, the ambient noise in the gallery died. Dozens of eyes locked onto me. Shock. Disdain. And burning, undeniable jealousy.
Eleanor, Ethan’s mother, was standing in the center of the room surrounded by high-society wives. She wore a jade-green silk dress and her heirloom pearls. When she saw me, her heavily botoxed face practically froze in sheer outrage.
"Let the show begin," Alexander whispered into my ear, his warm breath brushing my neck, sending a slight shiver down my spine. "The USB is behind the still-life in the West Corridor. Keep her occupied for ten minutes."
I nodded, releasing his arm, and walked slowly, purposefully straight toward Eleanor.
The crowd naturally parted to create a path for me. I stopped right in front of my former mother-in-law, flashing the most radiant, flawless smile I had perfected during my years of acting in her house.
"Eleanor," I said, my voice crystal clear but sharp as a blade. "Good evening. You look as radiant as ever, though... I heard the family trust is experiencing some turbulence since Ethan was incarcerated."
Several people around us gasped. No one dared mention Ethan in front of Eleanor. I had just broken the ultimate taboo.
Eleanor’s face turned scarlet. She ground her teeth. "Amelia. Where do you get the sheer audacity to step foot in here? A gold-digging tramp who ruined my son, now parading around with Alexander Sterling? You have no shame."
"Shame is for people who have to rely on someone else's last name to survive, Eleanor," I replied casually, lifting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "I rebuilt my own life. And you? You are still using charity donations to throw extravagant parties to cover up the fact that your family is bankrupt."
"Shut your mouth!" Eleanor hissed, losing her aristocratic composure entirely. "Security! Throw her out!"
"I am Alexander Sterling’s guest of honor," I stepped closer, dropping my voice so only she could hear. "And if you make a scene, I will tell the press outside exactly how you helped Ethan hide stolen art in this very gallery. Want to test me?"
Eleanor choked on her words. Panic flashed in her eyes. She didn't know if I was bluffing; she only knew that Ethan had done too many dirty things to risk it.
While I kept Eleanor trapped in a corner and held the attention of the elite crowd, Alexander slipped through the masses and disappeared into the West Corridor. Through the micro-earpiece hidden under my hair, I heard his voice.
"Cameras looped. I found the painting."
"You need to learn how to accept reality, Eleanor," I said louder, turning to smile at the eavesdropping crowd. "The Cole family has fallen. And I am no longer your puppet."
"Amelia. Damn it." Alexander's voice suddenly cracked through the earpiece, sharp and tense. "The USB isn't here. He carved a hole in the frame, but it's empty. There's a note."
My heart skipped a beat. "What is it?" I murmured, keeping my lips barely moving so the mic would pick it up.
"He knew we would look here. The note says: 'If you want the key, come see me.' Ethan has it, Amelia. He smuggled it into federal prison."
I gripped my champagne flute tightly. Ethan. Even from inside a steel cage, he was trying to play his manipulation games. He wanted to force me to face him one last time.
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I smiled at Eleanor, an expression colder than ice. "Excuse me, Eleanor. Your party is incredibly boring. I have more important things to do."
I turned on my heel and walked away, the crimson silk of my dress sweeping across the marble floor. This war wasn't over. It was just moving to a far more brutal battlefield: federal prison.
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