Chapter 4 - Blood at the Plaza
The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel glittered under chandeliers of Austrian crystal. Laughter, clinking champagne flutes, and the low hum of Manhattan’s elite filled the air as guests mingled around tables laden with caviar and silver service.
At the center of it all stood Susan Vane, dressed in a sweeping emerald silk gown, laughing gracefully as she accepted compliments for her charity foundation.
“Oh, Susan, the turnout this year is simply breathtaking,” a City Councilwoman gushed, touching Susan’s arm.
“It’s all for the children, darling,” Susan replied, her voice dripping with practiced sweetness. “Every dollar helps secure a better future for the little ones who—”
The heavy oak doors of the ballroom slammed open with a sound like a thunderclap.
The music stuttered and died. Conversations evaporated into choked gasps.
Four men in immaculate black suits walked in, forming a wedge. Behind them walked Rory Starks. He wore no overcoat, his dark suit tailored to perfection, his cold eyes sweeping over the terrified crowd with absolute disdain.
Julian Vane, standing near the bar with a glass of scotch, paled instantly. He set his glass down so hard the stem snapped.
“Rory,” Julian forced a tight, diplomatic smile, stepping forward with his hands raised in empty-handed peace. “What a surprise. I didn't realize you supported orphan charities. Or did you just lose your invitation?”
Rory didn’t stop walking until he was three feet from Julian. The enforcers fanned out, blocking the exits. The socialites pressed back against the walls, terrified to even breathe.
“Julian,” Rory’s voice cut through the silence like a butcher’s cleaver. “You always did love a good party.”
“Now, see here, Rory, this is a public space—”
Rory’s hand lashed out with terrifying speed, grabbing Julian by the lapels of his designer tuxedo and slamming him against the marble pillar. The crystal chandelier above them rattled.
“You put a buzzer in my daughters' teddy bear,” Rory whispered, so close their noses almost touched.
Julian’s eyes flickered with panic, but he maintained a veneer of defiance. “You’re out of your mind. You’ve gone completely insane with your little mobster paranoia—”
Rory pulled the shredded, blood-stained stuffing and the micro-circuit board from his pocket, shoving them hard into Julian’s chest pocket.
“Recognize the part, Julian? Apex Labs. Your front company in Queens. My tech guys pulled the serial numbers off the chip an hour ago. It traces back to a wire transfer from your Swiss account.”
The color drained entirely from Julian’s face. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Across the room, Susan Vane tried to slip toward the service exit.
Marcus intercepted her with a single step, grabbing her arm with enough force to make her cry out. He dragged her kicking and screaming back toward the center of the ballroom, throwing her to her knees at Rory’s feet.
“Let me go! You animals! Do you know who my family is?” Susan shrieked, clawing at the carpet.
Rory looked down at his cousin, his expression devoid of any human pity.
“Oh, I know who your family is,” Rory said quietly. “And as of right now, your family tree just got pruned.”
He turned back to Julian, his fist drawn back, ready to cave the man’s skull in right there on the marble floor.
Suddenly, every cell phone in the grand ballroom—all three hundred guests—lit up simultaneously.
A high-pitched, metallic screech echoed from every device in the room.
Rory froze. Julian gasped.
On the massive projector screen behind the stage, where a slideshow of smiling orphans had been playing, the images vanished. A live video feed appeared, showing the interior of the Starks estate living room.
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Sitting on the sofa were Lily and Rose, eating pancakes and laughing.
Standing behind them, holding a small silver remote control with a blinking red light, was Veronica Cruz.
