Chapter 5 - The Unmasking
Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, the massive projection screen at the front of the ballroom—intended for Andrew’s upcoming corporate presentation—flickered to life.
Clarissa’s breath caught in her throat. “Andrew, what is this? Stop him!”
Andrew stepped forward furiously. “Moretti, what is the meaning of this intrusion?”
“Sit down, Andrew,” Eleanor commanded sharp as a whip, her instincts warning her that something terrible was about to unfold.
The speakers surrounding the ballroom gave a soft hiss, and then a crystal-clear audio recording began to play.
“Seven years in this house… Seven years polishing silver and carrying trays, and you still haven’t learned the first rule.”
Clarissa’s voice echoed through the high-ceilinged room, amplified to absolute clarity.
The guests gasped. Several women covered their mouths.
On the massive high-definition screen, crystal-clear footage from the conservatory appeared. It showed Lily Hartwell standing motionlessly between the orchids. It showed the two junior maids trembling as they held her shoulders. And it showed Clarissa Vance, her face twisted in malicious glee, holding the heavy scissors.
“Poor girls don’t get to keep things that make them look important.”
SNIP.
The sound of the blades cutting through Lily’s hair rang out like a gunshot through the silent ballroom.
Clarissa screamed, “Turn it off! Turn it off right now! That’s fake! It’s a deepfake!” She lunged toward the AV booth, but Marcus Kane stepped smoothly into her path, blocking her with a wall of muscle.
The video played on.
It showed the hair falling to the floor. It showed Clarissa dropping the lock onto the tile like garbage.
“Now you look like what you are.”
The video cut to the scene from earlier that morning in the ballroom.
“You think anyone will believe you over me? I own this house! I own Andrew! You are nothing!”
The recording stopped.
The ballroom was in a state of absolute, horrified shock.
Eleanor Sterling stood up slowly, her face pale with cold, unbridled fury. She looked at Clarissa as if she were a roach crawling across her dinner plate.
“Is this true?” Eleanor asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
“No! Mother Sterling, he fabricated it! He’s trying to destroy our family!” Clarissa shrieked, tears of panic finally ruining her immaculate makeup. She turned to Andrew, grabbing his jacket. “Andrew! Tell her! Tell them he’s lying!”
Andrew looked between his mother, the horrified faces of the board members, and the cold, unyielding eyes of Vincent Moretti. Andrew knew his family’s empire was built on public image and blue-blood reputation.
“Clarissa…” Andrew stammered, backing away from her touch. “Did you… did you actually do that?”
“You coward!” Clarissa screamed, realizing he was throwing her to the wolves. “You knew I hated her! You told me to get rid of her!”
“I never told you to assault anyone!” Andrew yelled back, desperately trying to save himself.
While the elite argued, tear down their masks, and devour one another, Vincent turned his gaze toward the back of the room.
May you like
Lily stood near the service entrance, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was frozen in shock, watching the monstrous elite crumble under the weight of their own arrogance.
Vincent walked away from the chaos at the head table. He walked straight down the center aisle of the ballroom, his polished boots heavy against the floor, heading directly for the poor maid.
