Chapter 5 - The Gala Trap
The annual Mercer Charitable Foundation Gala was scheduled for the following evening at the Grand Regency Ballroom in downtown Chicago.
For weeks, Vivienne had been secretly managing the event preparations behind Grant’s back, subtly letting the foundation board members know that she would be standing beside Grant as the official hostess in Elena’s "unfortunate absence."
By seven o'clock on Saturday evening, the ballroom was packed with high-society patrons, city politicians, corporate executives, and press photographers.
Vivienne Cross moved through the crowd like a queen inspecting her court. She wore a sweeping crimson silk dress, her blonde hair styled in flawless waves, a champagne glass held elegantly between her manicured fingers.
She approached a group of wealthy board members who were conversing near the main stage.
"It’s just so heartbreaking," Vivienne said, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. "Grant is doing his absolute best, of course. But poor Elena... her mental health has simply deteriorated beyond recovery. We are all praying for her, but Grant has to think about little Leo’s future."
One of the board members nodded solemnly. "It’s tragic, Vivienne. But Grant is lucky to have a steadfast friend like you to help him run the foundation during such a trial."
"I only do what love demands," Vivienne murmured softly, casting her eyes downward with practiced humility.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the main entrance of the ballroom swung wide open.
The room went completely silent. The flashing of news cameras stopped for a fraction of a second, then exploded into a blinding frenzy of light.
Walking down the velvet carpet, holding hands with Grant Mercer, was Elena Mercer.
She was breathtaking. She wore a fitted emerald-green velvet gown that highlighted her radiant skin and dark hair. Her posture was regal, her chin held high, and a confident, glowing smile rested on her lips.
Behind them walked Owen Park and Tessa Monroe, who was dressed in an elegant black evening dress, holding a leather folder under her arm.
Vivienne’s champagne glass slipped from her hand, shattering against the marble floor with a sharp, echoing crack.
Her face drained of every drop of color. "No..." she whispered under her breath. "She’s in Vermont... she’s locked away..."
Grant and Elena paid no attention to the commotion around them. They walked gracefully up the center aisle, nodding to stunned guests, until they reached the main stage where the microphone was set up.
Grant took the microphone, placing a firm, loving hand on his wife’s waist.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Grant’s powerful voice echoed through the speaker system. "Welcome to the Mercer Foundation Gala. Tonight is a very special night for my family. First, because my beautiful wife, Elena, has returned home in full health, stronger than ever."
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The crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause. Vivienne stood frozen near the front row, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as cold panic seized her throat.
"And second," Grant continued, his eyes locking directly onto Vivienne with lethal intensity, "because tonight we are presenting a special reveal regarding the true stewards of our foundation."
