Chapter 9 - The Gala of Ruin
The grand ballroom of the Pierre Hotel was a dazzling spectacle of crystal chandeliers, flowing champagne, and New York’s absolute elite. The Whitmore-Sterling Charity Gala was the social event of the season, and despite the whispers of the blind item on the internet, the city’s billionaires had shown up in full force.
Natalie descended the grand staircase wearing a breathtaking, custom-designed crimson gown that flowed like liquid fire. A diamond necklace rested against her collarbone, and her posture was nothing short of regal. She commanded the room the moment she stepped into it, radiating absolute, unshakeable power.
At 10:00 PM, the heavy brass doors of the ballroom opened, and Sloan Mercer walked in.
She had used a fraction of Preston’s crypto stash to buy a designer dress and a professional blowout, desperately trying to project the image of the wealthy, untouchable woman she used to be. But beneath the makeup, the desperation was palpable. She scanned the crowd, her eyes locking onto Natalie.
Natalie didn't run. She didn't call security. She simply smiled and offered a subtle nod toward the private VIP elevators in the back of the hall.
Ten minutes later, Sloan stepped into the luxurious, soundproofed VIP suite overlooking the ballroom. Natalie was waiting for her, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window with a glass of sparkling water.
"I must admit, Sloan, you have incredible nerve," Natalie said, not turning around.
"I have leverage," Sloan countered, stepping into the room. She held up her phone. "It’s ten-fifteen. You have forty-five minutes to wire the ten million dollars to the Cayman account, Natalie. If I don't see the confirmation by eleven, I press send. The documents go to the New York Times, and the SEC freezes your doors by Monday morning."
Natalie slowly turned around. The crimson dress made her look like a beautiful, terrifying queen preparing for an execution.
"You really thought Preston’s hidden crypto wallet would save you," Natalie said softly.
Sloan froze. The smug, victorious smirk on her face shattered instantly. "How..."
"How did I know?" Natalie laughed softly, walking toward the sleek mahogany desk in the center of the room. "Because Preston is arrogant, and you are sloppy. You used a crypto wallet tied to an IP address in Queens to pay off offshore bot farms to short my stock. You left a digital footprint a mile wide."
Sloan took a step back, her hands beginning to tremble. "It doesn't matter! The leaked documents will still ruin you!"
"No, they won't," Natalie said, leaning against the desk. "Because fabricating financial documents to extort the CEO of a publicly traded company is a federal felony. And accessing millions of dollars in hidden, undeclared crypto assets violates every single term of Preston’s sentencing agreement. And receiving those funds violates your parole."
"You have no proof!" Sloan screamed, her voice shrill and panicked.
"I don't need proof," Natalie smiled. "They do."
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She pressed a button on a remote control on the desk. The heavy oak doors adjoining the suite’s private conference room slid open.
Standing in the doorway were three federal agents from the FBI’s financial crimes division.
