Chapter 6 - Reclaiming the Throne
The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a sea of glittering crystal, expensive champagne, and the low, wealthy murmur of New York’s elite.
Weston stood on the elevated stage, looking sharp and smug in a custom tuxedo. Camille stood beside him, wearing a glittering diamond necklace—undoubtedly paid for with company funds—and holding their infant son. Preston and Adele stood nearby, basking in the glow of the flashing cameras.
“...And as we look to the next fifty years of Callaway Holdings,” Weston’s voice boomed through the microphone, “we look to the future. A future built on tradition, legacy, and the strength of the family name.”
The crowd began to applaud.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the back of the ballroom swung open.
The applause died down, wave by wave, as people turned to look at the entrance.
I walked in.
I didn't rush. I walked with a slow, measured grace, the train of my emerald gown whispering against the polished marble floor. Beside me walked Josephine Nadeir, carrying a sleek leather briefcase, accompanied by two federal process servers in sharp suits.
The silence in the ballroom became absolute. You could hear a pin drop.
Weston froze on the stage, the microphone still hovering near his mouth. His face went from smug satisfaction to utter disbelief in the span of a single heartbeat.
“Sable?” he muttered into the microphone, his voice echoing awkwardly through the speakers.
I walked straight down the center aisle, ignoring the whispers and the gasps of the crowd. I stopped at the foot of the stage, looking up at him, his parents, and Camille.
“What are you doing here?” Adele hissed, stepping forward. “This is a private event! Security!”
“Security won't be helping you tonight, Adele,” Josephine said, her voice carrying effortlessly through the quiet room. She nodded to the process servers.
They stepped up onto the stage. One of them handed a thick legal packet to Weston, while the other handed one to Preston.
“Weston Callaway, you have been served with a petition for divorce, citing extreme cruelty and marital waste,” the first server announced clearly.
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“Preston Callaway,” the second server added, “as Chairman of Callaway Holdings, you are hereby served with a Notice of Immediate Lease Termination and Foreclosure on the Vance-Callaway Land Trust.”
The room erupted into chaos.
