Chapter 6 - The Gala After MidnightVivienne returned to the Evermont ballroom the next evening.
The gala's second event was smaller.
More private.
More dangerous.
She stood near the balcony overlooking Manhattan.
Preston approached.
She immediately turned.
"No."
"Please."
"I said no."
"I know who's behind Tiffany."
Vivienne stopped.
"What did you say?"
"Marcus Vale."
Her expression changed.
"How do you know that name?"
"He came to me."
Vivienne stared.
"What did he want?"
"The succession amendment."
Silence.
Vivienne's face became unreadable.
"Did he threaten you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"He knows everything."
"About what?"
"Your trust."
She looked away.
Preston stepped closer.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me."
"Good."
"I'm asking you to listen."
Vivienne turned.
"Why should I?"
"Because I finally understand what happened."
"You understand nothing."
"I was manipulated."
"So was I."
He lowered his voice.
"Vivienne, Marcus introduced Tiffany to me."
She froze.
"What?"
"He wanted me close to you."
"Why?"
"To get information."
Vivienne's mind raced.
"Did Tiffany know?"
"I don't know."
"Did you?"
"No."
She stared at him.
For the first time in months, she saw genuine fear in his face.
Not embarrassment.
Not anger.
Fear.
"You should leave," she whispered.
"Why?"
"Because if Marcus is involved, you're no longer useful."
Preston frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means he may decide you're disposable."
Before he could answer, the lights went out.
The ballroom fell into darkness.
People screamed.
Security moved immediately.
Vivienne grabbed Preston's arm.
"Stay behind me."
He almost laughed.
"Behind you?"
"Do you want to survive?"
He nodded.
A crash came from the balcony.
Then another.
Someone shouted,
"Get her out!"
Security surrounded Vivienne.
Preston heard footsteps.
A figure ran toward them.
He reacted without thinking.
He tackled the man.
They crashed onto the marble floor.
A weapon fell from the attacker's hand.
Security rushed forward.
The attacker escaped through a service door.
Preston sat breathing heavily.
Vivienne stared at him.
"You saved me."
He looked at her.
"I couldn't let him hurt you."
She didn't answer.
Then her phone rang.
It was her mother.
Vivienne answered.
Eleanor's voice trembled.
"Vivienne, come home."
"Why?"
"We found something."
"What?"
"Your father's old files."
Vivienne's face changed.
"What's in them?"
A pause.
"Proof that Marcus wasn't working alone."
"Who else?"
Her mother whispered one name.
"Preston's father."
Vivienne slowly turned toward Preston.
He was still on the floor.
He looked up.
"What's wrong?"
She stared at him.
"Your father knew mine."
Preston's face drained.
"My father died ten years ago."
"I know."
"Then how?"
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Vivienne's voice was barely audible.
"Because apparently, this started before either of us ever met."
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