Chapter 38
New York City, an emblem of old money and new money wealth alike was alive with the murmurs of creme de la creme of society, each attired in their sartorial best for the Hatton family’s annual philanthropic banquet.
Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling like cascades of radiant stars, warm light glinting off the diamond brooches and cufflinks that punctuated the evening wear of the guests. The round tables draped in rich burgundy cloth stood as islands amongst the sea of mingling attendees, adorned with ornate centerpieces overflowing white roses and orchids, their fragrance lending the air a heady, intoxicating quality.
The crescendo of a live string quartet underscored the evening, the nuanced notes serenading the well-heeled as they nodded through the hum of conversation and the labyrinth of social niceties. Laughter rose the melody, a chorus of joy polished by years of grace and poise, much like the vintage wine pouring freely into cut-glass goblets.
Bu yet, Anita Brown navigated the crowd with the grace of one who had long been in the centre of such grandeur. Her striking black gown a masterpiece of cout, embraced her figure, bold contrast to the soft glow of the ballroom yet the mischievous glint in her eye betrayed her intentions for the night-far less benevolent than the philanthropic facade of the evening.
Her gaze flitted across the room, landing finally on Jackson Hatton who stood at the entrance dressed in a sleek black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and chiselled jawline, glimmering under the soft glow of the golden lights. He stood at the door, a wide smile on his face as he welcomed the guest in.
She watched quietly from where she sat, her dainty hand carelessly holding a glass of wine to her lips, she waited and waited, and at the perfect moment she watched Emily and Ethan walk in together, Ethan hands nicely placed on Emily’s cinched waist. A wide smile playing on both their lips as they both stopped in front of Jackson and it faltered, Emily’s at least but only for a split second while Jackson’s eyes darted all over the place, his eyes betraying the cool demeanor he managed to put on. It was only for a second and everything returned back to normal. The brothers shook hands, while Jackson threw a kiss in Emily’s direction and avoiding touching her at the same time.
Emily walked forward with Ethan as they made their way to their designated table. She walked, swaying gently to the music’s lullaby. Ethan whispering something to her and her laughter mingling with the harmonious strings of the quartet. They had merely reached their seat when an unsuspecting server, his balanced glasses filled to the brim with wine, a crimson brew that seemed to catch fire in the light.
As the waiter moved towards a distracted Emily, the sea of guests surged, a sudden swell that crashed against his course. A glass tipped, an unforeseen misstep, and a cascade of merlot wine surged forth, staining the pristine fabric of Emily’s gown-a crimson blossom blooming upon her silk and lace dress. She gasped.
The room seemed to inhale sharply, followed by a collective gasp that now mirrored Emily’s stunned silence. In the span of a heartbeat, the tranquility of the moment shattered, fraying at the edges as apologies spilled forth from the waiter’s lips.
“Madam, my apologies” the waiter stammered, the pallor of his cheeks belying the inadvertent disaster. Ethan saw the panic on Emily’s face and was about to intervene, reigning harsh words on the clumsy waiter but one gentle look from her seemed to hold him back and he pulled he closer instead.
“What am I going to do? This is so embarrassing” she said with a shaky voice.
“Should we leave?” Ethan’s suggested and Emily’s eyes widened in surprise
“You can’t leave but -”
“Pardon my intrusion” the server cut in to their discussion, his eyes still heavy with remorse.
“There’s a room for situations like this, there is someone there ready to attend to your dress”
A kind hand upon her elbow guided Emily, her mind still reeling, up the magnificent staircase and into the haven of upper quarters, her delicate train trailing like a ghost behind her. The room she was led to was a stark departure from the splendor below-a quaint nest hidden amidst the luxury.
With a promise of swift return, the waiter left her, the click of the door sealing her within the quaint serenity. The room was quiet, and unlike the waiter described there was no one here, just different dresses draping from the closet. Maybe she was supposed to wait. She drudged around, making herself comfortable on the sofa in the room while she waited for who was to attend to her.
Unknown to Emily, a similar scene unfolded below at the party. Another waiter, a mirror of the first in both attire and intent, approached Jackson-a glass of wine swinging like a pendulum toward its unwitting mark.
The spill was artful, a splash of red across the lapel of Jackson’s jacket, the wine seeping into the fabric with a voracity that mocked intent.Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.
“You little -” Jackson started, his face contorting in anger watching the stain spread over his very expensive suit.
“I’m so sorry” the server muttered, a master of feigned dismay.
“What are you even doing over here, the servers are that way” Jackson said angrily then grabbing him by his shirt in a threatening yet subtle manner. “Fix this, or you’re fired immediately”
“There’s a room prepared for situations like this, it’ll be a quick fix sir, apologies once again. Upstairs, third door on the left” the server said and Ethan eyed him suspiciously but walked away immediately to the directions given to him. He found the door and pushed it open, his demeanor as unruffled as the sheen of his hair.
Upon entering the room, there was a ruffling that caught him by surprise, he found Emily poised over a bowl of seltzer water. He raised his brows in confusion.
“Emily?” He said in surprise as she mirrored his look coming closer to him now
“What are you-” she wanted to say but she was cut short by the soft mechanical snick of a locking door.
Their eyes met, a single question mirrored in both gazes. Confusion, irritation, but above all-a creeping suspicion
“What the hell!!!”