Midnight at the Winter Gala
Chapter 14 - Midnight at the Winter Gala
One year earlier, the Winter Gala had raised six million dollars for children's hospitals.
This year, Isabella suspected at least three guests planned to kill one another before dessert.
The ballroom belonged to the Moretti family foundation, which meant Bianca could control the guest list, security entrances, and staff corridors.
It also meant Petrov believed she would come.
Isabella wore a dark green evening gown Bianca had chosen.
"No waitress uniform?" she asked.
Bianca adjusted one earring.
"I thought we'd try entering through the front door this time."
Maya stood behind them in the dressing room.
She had refused every request to stay home.
"I was kidnapped because of this nonsense. I have earned appetizers."
"You are not leaving this room," Isabella said.
Maya smiled sweetly.
"Absolutely."
No one believed her.
Garrett Shaw had spent the previous twenty-four hours quietly assembling a team outside Voss's chain of command.
The Department of Justice Inspector General had copies of Celeste's files.
The ledger was already duplicated in three secure locations.
For once, the evidence did not depend on one frightened person staying alive.
That was Daniel's final lesson.
Never build truth around a single point of failure.
At eleven fifty-eight, Isabella entered the ballroom.
Heads turned.
Not because she was famous.
Because the story had become famous.
The waitress Alessandro Romano publicly claimed.
The mysterious warrant.
The raid on his estate.
New York society had never met a scandal it could not serve beside champagne.
Isabella walked through the same kind of golden light that had surrounded her at the Grande Hotel.
This time, she was not carrying a tray.
At midnight, a waiter passed and whispered, "Terrace."
She almost laughed.
Of course.
Outside, the city glittered below.
Matteo stood near the railing.
Alone.
No bruises.
No gun.
Isabella stopped.
"The photograph."
"Staged."
Anger flashed through her.
"You seem very comfortable using fear as a tool."
"I was raised by Romanos."
"Alessandro is trying to unlearn it."
Matteo's expression tightened.
"I know."
"Where is Petrov?"
"Coming."
"And Voss?"
"Already here."
Isabella looked through the glass doors.
A silver-haired woman in a midnight-blue gown was speaking to a federal judge.
Helen Voss looked polished, composed, entirely at home among donors.
"How long?" Isabella asked.
"Voss has protected Petrov for eleven years."
"Why?"
"Money at first."
Matteo glanced toward the ballroom.
"Then leverage. Petrov collected evidence on her. After that, she wasn't taking bribes. She was paying ransom for her own reputation."
"That doesn't make her sympathetic."
"I didn't say it did."
He handed Isabella a small envelope.
Inside was a memory card.
"Every call between them for six months."
"How?"
"Voss trusted my hatred of Alessandro."
"Do you hate him?"
Matteo looked toward the ballroom.
"Sometimes."
Honesty.
At last.
"My father spent my childhood telling me Alessandro would inherit everything because he was Antonio's son. Then Antonio killed my father."
His mouth twisted.
"I spent years wanting Alessandro to pay for surviving."
"Did you betray him?"
"Yes."
The answer surprised her.
"Not to Petrov."
Matteo looked at her.
"But I let resentment make decisions that hurt people who had nothing to do with our fathers."
"Thomas."
"Yes."
"Maya."
"Yes."
"Me."
His eyes lowered.
"Especially you."
Isabella put the card inside her clutch.
"Then helping tonight doesn't erase it."
"I know."
"Good."
The terrace door opened.
Petrov stepped out.
Two men remained inside.
Helen Voss joined him.
She looked at Isabella with faint disappointment.
"You are remarkably difficult to dispose of."
Isabella's pulse jumped.
Her face stayed still.
"People keep mentioning that."
Voss glanced at Matteo.
"Does she have it?"
"Yes."
Petrov extended a hand.
"The card."
Isabella did not move.
"First tell me what happened to my father."
Petrov smiled.
"Your father was collateral damage."
The phrase struck deeper than she expected.
"Salvatore wanted Alessandro dead. Daniel took the wrong car."
"And my mother?"
"Unfortunate."
Voss interrupted.
"We do not have time for nostalgia."
Isabella looked at her.
"You helped hide my mother."
"I helped erase a problem."
"For sixteen years."
Voss's expression hardened.
"Give me the card."
"Why?"
"Because if you don't, Alessandro Romano will spend the next thirty years in federal prison."
Isabella felt something cold move through her.
Voss smiled.
"I control which evidence reaches prosecutors."
"Not anymore."
Everyone turned.
Bianca stood in the doorway.
Behind her was Garrett Shaw.
And behind him were three investigators Isabella had never seen.
Voss did not panic.
That was what made her dangerous.
She laughed.
"You think a corrupted ledger and a few recordings will touch me?"
Shaw held up his phone.
"No."
His gaze moved to Isabella.
"But the live audio from the last four minutes might."
Voss looked at Matteo.
Betrayal flashed across her face.
Petrov moved first.
He shoved Matteo into Shaw and ran.
The ballroom erupted.
Guests screamed.
Security surged toward the terrace.
Petrov's men overturned a table near the exit.
Isabella lost sight of everyone.
Then a hand seized her arm.
She twisted.
Alessandro.
For a second she thought fear had invented him.
He was wearing a black suit.
No tie.
A healing cut near his temple.
"What are you doing here?"
"Excellent to see you too."
"You're supposed to be in custody."
"Released to counsel six hours ago."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Bianca thought you'd argue."
"She was right."
Gunfire cracked near the service hall.
Alessandro pulled Isabella behind a marble column.
Across the ballroom, Petrov disappeared through a staff door.
Matteo followed.
"No," Alessandro said.
Isabella knew that tone.
"He's going after him."
"Then let Shaw—"
A message appeared on Isabella's phone.
From Thomas.
I FOUND PETROV'S CAR. I'M FOLLOWING HIM.
Her blood turned cold.
Thomas had been ordered to stay at the estate.
He had not.
Alessandro read the screen.
"Where?"
A second message arrived.
WAREHOUSE 17.
Isabella looked up.
May you like
The story was returning to where it had begun.
And this time, every person still carrying an old debt was heading to the same place.
