Aletha's feet rooted to the floor. Her stomach dropped as she watched her husband parade his mistress right into the center of her own domain.
Dinah's eyes scanned the room and locked onto the central display podium.
Resting under a glass case was a breathtaking black haute couture gown. It was the "Black Swan's Song," a one-of-a-kind, not-for-sale masterpiece designed personally by Lan for the Aura studio.
Dinah gasped. She shook Kristopher's arm excitedly.
"Kris, look at it! It's perfect. I have to have it for the gala," she whined, her voice pitching up in a spoiled plea.
Kristopher looked down at her and smiled indulgently. He reached out and ruffled her hair. He snapped his fingers, and the gallery manager practically sprinted over.
"I want that dress," Kristopher said.
The manager wiped sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "Mr. Glenn, I apologize, but that piece is strictly not for sale. It belongs to Ms. Sloane's studio. It's just on loan for the exhibition."
Kristopher let out a short, cold laugh. "There isn't a single thing in Manhattan that the Glenn family cannot buy. Name your price."
As he spoke, his sharp gaze swept across the room and landed directly on the staircase. He saw Aletha. And he saw Julian standing right beside her.
The muscles in Kristopher's jaw instantly locked. His eyes turned into dark, dangerous slits.
He left Dinah's side and stalked through the crowd, stopping right in front of Aletha. His tall frame cast a heavy, suffocating shadow over her.
"Call Sloane right now," Kristopher ordered, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "Tell her to hand over that dress."
Aletha tilted her head up. She stared straight into the eyes of the man she had once loved so desperately.
"Dream on," she said. Her voice was flat, hard, and loud enough to carry.
A collective gasp rippled through the gallery. No one in this city ever dared to publicly defy the tyrant of Wall Street.
Kristopher leaned in closer. The scent of his cologne mixed with pure danger. "Do not test my patience today, Aletha."
Dinah hurried over, her eyes already brimming with fresh tears. She grabbed Kristopher's sleeve.
"Kris, please don't be mad. If Dr. Ward wants to be difficult, I don't need the dress. I don't want to cause trouble," she whimpered.
The surrounding socialites began to mutter, throwing disgusted looks at Aletha for being so petty and ungrateful.
Julian's patience snapped. He stepped directly in front of Aletha, using his broad shoulders to completely shield her from Kristopher.
"Your manners are disgusting, Glenn," Julian sneered loudly. "Bringing your mistress in here to rob someone else's hard work in broad daylight. Have you no shame?"
The word mistress dropped like a bomb in the middle of the high-society crowd. The room erupted into shocked whispers.
Dinah's face drained of all color. She swayed on her feet and collapsed against Kristopher's chest, sobbing into his lapel as if she had just been stabbed.
The temperature around Kristopher plummeted to absolute zero. He stared at Julian, his eyes burning with a promise of total destruction.
"Watch your mouth, Julian," Kristopher said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Don't risk your entire firm just to play hero for a used pair of shoes."
Aletha felt the words hit her chest like a physical blow with a sledgehammer. Her fingernails dug so deeply into her palms that the skin broke.
Julian let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "As long as I have breath in my lungs, I will never let a piece of trash like you bully her."
The two powerful men stood inches apart, the air between them crackling with violent, explosive tension.
Aletha stepped out from behind Julian. Her eyes were as calm and dead as a stagnant pool of water. She was ready for whatever hell came next.