Chapter 43
Chapter 43:
The Plaza Hotel ballroom was dripping with crystals and white lilies. It smelled of expensive perfume and old money.
Eliza and Azalea entered together. Heads turned. The whispers began immediately, spreading through the crowd like a swarm of bees.
Eliza Solomon. The exile. She came back.
She looked regal in the high-neck black gown, a stark contrast against the sea of pastels and sequins surrounding her. She moved with a new grace, her chin held high.
Victoria Hyde intercepted them near the champagne tower. She was wearing gold, presenting herself like a trophy.
“You actually came,” Victoria said, looking Eliza up and down with undisguised contempt. “And dressed for a funeral. How fitting p>
“I’m mourning your son’s freedom,” Eliza replied, her tone perfectly smooth.
Azalea muffled a laugh into her hand. Victoria stiffened, eyes narrowing to sharp points.
“Enjoy the food, dear. It’s more than you can afford these days.” She turned and walked away.
“I need a drink after that,” Azalea muttered. “I see a waiter — be right back p>
ѕ𝗵𝘢r𝗲 𝗒𝗈u𝘳 fa𝘃𝗈𝘳i𝘁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗿o𝗆 𝘨𝖺𝘭ոo𝗏𝖾𝗹s.с𝗈𝗺
She disappeared into the crowd. Eliza stood alone near a marble pillar, grounding herself.
“Eliza p>
The voice came from behind her. She turned.
Anson stood there. His tuxedo fit perfectly, but his eyes were shadowed and tired. “You look different,” he said, studying the severe dress. “Closed off p>
“I’m not the same person, Anson,” she said.
He stepped closer, shrinking her personal space. “I heard rumors. About you and Koch.” His voice dropped, urgent and pleading. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me you didn’t marry him p>
“That’s none of your business,” she said.
“He is dangerous, Eliza,” Anson pressed. “Koch Industries has a dark history. He ruins people. He will chew you up and spit you out p>
“You ruined me first,” she said, her voice sharp and steady. “He is putting me back together p>
Anson looked as though she had struck him. “I did what I had to do — for the family, for us! If I married Claudine, I could secure the capital to p>
“Darling p>
A shrill voice cut him off.
Claudine Chapman swept in wearing a massive white ballgown, looking every inch the princess and nothing like one in the eyes. She linked her arm through Anson’s and turned to Eliza with a smile that didn’t reach her face.
“Eliza. So glad you could make it.” Her gaze moved over the black gown with quiet satisfaction. “We were just about to cut the cake. You must join us — front row. Since you’re practically family p>
“I’ll stay here,” Eliza said.
“Nonsense,” Claudine said, closing her hand around Eliza’s arm. “Come p>
She steered Eliza firmly toward the stage. The crowd parted around them.
Eliza looked up at what awaited her. The cake was a towering five-tier monstrosity, bright yellow and orange, decorated with elaborate sugar flowers.
Mango mousse.
Her stomach dropped. Her blood went cold.
She was deathly allergic to mango.
The crowd applauded as the trio stood beside the cake. Flashbulbs popped, bleaching the room white.