CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALYSSA
Six hundred guests attended the Vader Children’s Arts Foundation gala.
Fourteen protesters stood across Collins Avenue.
Five television crews waited behind the press barrier.
One woman entered wearing a copy of Alyssa’s proposal dress and a necklace intended for a wedding that never happened.
Vanessa made sure the cameras saw her.
She paused beneath the hotel’s restored entrance canopy with Sophie beside her. Flashbulbs fired across the sidewalk. Vanessa lowered her face as though the attention frightened her, which encouraged the photographers to call louder.
“Vanessa, are you afraid of Alyssa?”
“Did Mrs Vader threaten Sophie?”
“Are you and Damian together?”
Vanessa answered none of them.
Her silence performed the work beautifully.
Alyssa watched from the lobby while Lena adjusted the order of arrivals.
“Your car can pull around again,” Lena offered.
“I’ve already arrived.”
“We could create distance.”
“There’s an ocean behind the hotel. That’s about as much as we have.”
A security officer opened the doors.
Alyssa stepped outside.
The questions changed at once.
“Did you steal from the foundation?”
“Have you been suspended?”
“Did you call Sophie a prop?”
“Are you receiving psychiatric care?”
The last question came from a man with a microphone branded by a network that had once interviewed Alyssa about free arts programs in public schools.
She stopped in front of him.
“Those messages came from a deactivated account,” she said. “The foundation’s financial records are undergoing independent forensic review. I will comment when that process is complete.”
“Did you threaten a journalist?”
“No.”
“Is your husband protecting you?”
Alyssa looked through the glass doors.
Damian stood in the lobby.
Black tuxedo. White shirt. No tie pin because she had once told him it made him look like a casino manager.
His eyes held hers.
“I protect myself,” Alyssa said.
She entered the hotel.
Damian waited until they were beyond the cameras.
“You weren’t supposed to answer questions.”
“They asked.”
“That has never compelled you before.”
“Tonight is full of firsts.”
His gaze moved over her dress.
Alyssa had chosen midnight-blue silk with a square neckline and long sleeves. The gown carried no connection to their marriage, no story repeated in magazines, no memory Vanessa could borrow and parade before photographers.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you.”
The politeness affected him more than rejection.
He reached for her elbow. Alyssa stepped aside to greet a trustee approaching from the ballroom.
For the next hour, work protected her.
She welcomed donors. She thanked the teaching staff from Liberty City. She introduced a sixteen-year-old scholarship recipient who had built a sculpture from broken skateboard decks. Every task carried a name, a deadline or a person who deserved her attention.
Vanessa remained beside Damian for eight minutes during the press photographs.
Alyssa counted because she hated herself.
The corrected programs reached the tables before dinner. Vanessa’s introduction now described her as an advocate sharing a personal account. Damian’s alleged charitable inspiration had vanished.
No one died from the amendment.
Elena objected anyway.
“You embarrassed me,” she said near the champagne wall.
“I corrected a false statement.”
“It came from my notes.”
“That explains it.”
Elena drew herself taller. “I was present when Damian began donating to shelters.”
“So was Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“Did she establish this foundation?”
“No.”
“Did she design its programs, raise its first grants or work in its office for eleven years?”
“That isn’t what the wording claimed.”
“It claimed she inspired Damian’s commitment.”
“She did.”
“Then Damian can fund a plaque.”
Elena’s mouth thinned.
A waiter appeared with champagne. Alyssa took a glass and handed it directly to Elena.
“Enjoy the gala.”
She walked away before family history acquired another necklace.
At eight-forty, the ballroom lights dimmed.
A video about the year’s programs played across three screens. Children painted murals, built model cities and learned photography with donated cameras. Alyssa had watched the final edit a dozen times. Tonight, the footage struck harder.
This work existed.
The fake approvals had not erased it.
Vanessa had not built it.
Damian sat at the central table with Sophie on his left and Alyssa on his right. Vanessa occupied the next seat beyond the child.
The arrangement came from security, according to Lena. Sophie needed an unobstructed route to the side exit. Vanessa needed separation from Alyssa. Damian remained between all possible disasters because billionaires disliked an event unless the seating plan confirmed their importance.
During the video, his hand settled beside Alyssa’s on the tablecloth.
Their fingers did not touch.
A year earlier, he would have covered her hand without looking. Alyssa would have turned her palm upward.
Tonight, two inches of white linen remained between them.
Applause rose as the video ended.
Damian leaned toward her. “You did this.”
“We did.”
“You did.”
The words arrived too late to repair anything. Still, they entered the bruise.
Alyssa looked at him.
For several seconds, the ballroom receded beneath the applause.
“I need you to trust me,” she said.
His expression changed. “I’m trying.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
The admission surprised her.
Before either could continue, Sophie touched Alyssa’s sleeve.
“Mrs Vader?”
The girl’s face looked pale beneath the ballroom lights.
“What is it?”
“I lost my bracelet.”
Vanessa had given Sophie a thin silver bracelet that afternoon. She had shown it to three guests and explained that Damian once helped choose it for a children’s collection during their engagement.
Even jewelry now required a backstory.
“Where did you last see it?” Alyssa asked.
“Upstairs.”
“Tell your mother.”
Sophie glanced past Damian.
Vanessa stood near the stage speaking to Elena.
“Mom said not to interrupt the speeches.”
“They haven’t started.”
“She told me to ask you.”
The words carried enough strain to make Alyssa study the child.
Sophie’s fingers twisted in her skirt.
“Why me?”
“You know the hotel.”
That was true.
Alyssa had inspected every service corridor, suite and landing during the restoration. She also knew a security officer stood at the upper floor.
“Show me where you lost it.”
Sophie slid from her chair.
Damian looked over. “Where are you going?”
“Her bracelet is upstairs,” Alyssa said.
“I’ll send security.”
“Sophie asked me.”
His gaze moved to the child. “Stay where the officer can see you.”
They crossed the ballroom before the first speech began.
The upper staircase curved from the lobby mezzanine to a short landing outside the hotel’s original bridal suite. Alyssa had preserved its brass rail and replaced damaged sections with painted steel made to match.
A security officer stood at the foot of the stairs.
“Mrs Vader,” he said. “The upper floor is closed.”
“We’re looking for a bracelet.”
“I can send somebody.”
Sophie had already climbed several steps.
Alyssa followed her.
“Where did you lose it?”
“Near the top.”
At the landing, the corridor lay empty.
The wall sconce Vanessa had inspected earlier glowed above a console table. Fresh flowers filled a narrow ceramic vase. No bracelet lay on the carpet or beside the skirting board.
Sophie stopped near the bridal-suite door.
“Is it inside?” Alyssa asked.
The child looked toward the staircase.
Vanessa stood below.
Her red gown spread around her shoes. She held her phone at her side.
“Sweetheart,” she called. “Elena is looking for you.”
Sophie rushed past Alyssa.
Vanessa kissed the child’s forehead and whispered near her ear.
Sophie descended without looking back.
Alyssa remained on the landing.
Every useful instinct told her to follow.
Vanessa climbed toward her.
The phone stayed in her right hand, screen turned inward.
“Did Sophie ever have a bracelet?” Alyssa asked.
“Of course.”
“Where is it?”
“Probably in her room.”
Vanessa reached the landing.
Up close, the emerald necklace looked obscene. Heavy stones rested above the neckline of the red gown. Alyssa remembered Elena’s assistant closing the velvet case after Damian ordered it removed.
“You were told not to wear that,” Alyssa said.
“Damian told his mother to take it back. He never spoke to me.”
“You found the distinction reassuring?”
“I found it useful.”
The softness had left Vanessa’s voice.
Music played below them. Glasses clinked. Six hundred guests waited for speeches while the woman beside Alyssa held a phone low against her skirt.
“You’re recording,” Alyssa said.
Vanessa’s thumb moved over the screen. “Would that concern you?”
“No. Hold it where it can hear both of us.”
A faint smile touched her mouth.
“You’ve learned.”
“I learned when you edited the last one.”
“Damian knows I edited it.”
“He still kept you in my home.”
“Exactly.”
Vanessa took another step, placing herself between Alyssa and the staircase.
“You should leave,” Alyssa said.
“I don’t need you to order me out anymore.”
“You never did. You needed Damian to ignore the order.”
“He doesn’t ignore you.”
“That must disappoint you.”
“Damian watches you constantly. He anticipates what you’ll say, what you’ll object to, how long you’ll remain calm. It’s exhausting.”
“For you?”
“For him.”
Alyssa glanced toward the stairs.
The security officer had moved several paces into the lobby to stop a guest entering the closed floor. From his new position, the landing remained partly obscured by the curve of the wall.
“Move,” Alyssa said.
Vanessa stayed in place. “Do you know why the messages worked?”
“They came from an old account.”
“Because everybody already believed you were angry.”
“Being angry does not make them real.”
“It makes them comfortable.”
Vanessa’s phone angled toward Alyssa.
“They don’t require proof now,” she continued. “Damian expects you to behave badly. I only have to give him a place to look.”
Alyssa heard the admission.
So did the phone, assuming Vanessa kept this section.
“Why the foundation?”