Chapter 5
By the end of the month, Hawthorne Foundation Charity Gala had finally arrived.
Michael Carter’s company was one of the sponsors, so of course he had to attend.
“You just stay home with the kid,” he said casually while knotting his tie, as if he were commenting on the weather.
I lowered my eyes and gave a soft “mm.”
I knew perfectly well who he’d be bringing along.
Standing by the window, I watched his car pull out of the driveway, the corner of my lips curling ever so slightly.
But honestly-
How could I possibly miss a show this good?
The Hawthorne Foundation Charity Gala.
Bright lights, red carpet, flashbulbs everywhere.
The crimson carpet stretched from the grand entrance to the main stage inside, both sides packed with reporters wielding their long
lenses.
Celebrities, CEOs, socialites–every entrance triggered a storm of shutters and screams.
And she arrived.
From my VIP box on the second floor, I swirled my champagne lazily, gazing down at Bella Rose.
She hadn’t disappointed. She’d gone all in with her gown of choice-
a diamond–studded deep–V dress plunging nearly to her navel.
A veil of gossamer lace covered her chest just enough to tease, while carefully styled curls spilled over her shoulders to frame the
brand–new assets, she was so desperate to flaunt.
On Michael’s arm, she wore a practiced smile–half coy restraint, half unmasked ambition.
Michael stood beside her, smug written all over his face.
“Isn’t that… that influencer?”
“Who?”
“Bella Rose!”
The reporters smelled blood. Cameras swung toward her instantly.
“Bella, over here!”
“Bella, to the right!”
“Bella, give us a pose!”
Flashes popped like fireworks as she hit pose after pose, her cleavage on full display with every angle.
Inside, her heart was soaring. This was the moment she’d been dreaming of.
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She turned slightly, arching her chest higher, lips curling into the sultriest smile she could muster, drunk on the spotlight.
But just as she reached the end of the carpet, ready to climb the few marble steps up to the stage-
Her attention flicked right, distracted by a sudden burst of flashbulbs.
Her stiletto, worth more than most people’s rent, caught on a tiny, almost invisible metal trim hidden at the end of the carpet. Just a few millimeters high, but enough.
“Ahhh
