Chapter 3

"Enough!"

Harrison Chenault' s voice boomed through the ballroom. He strode towards them, his face a mask of fury. He looked every bit the arrogant, entitled heir.

"Ava! What the hell do you think you' re doing? Humiliating Brooke? Ruining my night? Apologize to her. Now!"

He grabbed Ava' s arm, his fingers digging into her skin, trying to drag her towards Brooke.

Ava didn' t flinch. She looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face.

"Let go of me, Harrison." Her voice was dangerously quiet.

"You' ll do as I say!" Harrison snarled. He started to pull harder. "This gala is over! Everyone out!"

Ava was about to wrench her arm free, about to call for the Chenault security she knew was loyal to her father, when a new voice cut through the tension, cold and authoritative.

"Harrison. Release your sister."

Lawrence Chenault stood at the entrance to the ballroom. He wasn't supposed to be here. His doctors had ordered bed rest. But he was here, dressed impeccably, his eyes like chips of ice. He was flanked by two of his most senior security personnel.

Harrison froze, his hand dropping from Ava' s arm as if burned. "Father! I... I was just..."

"I saw what you were 'just' doing, Harrison," Lawrence said, his gaze sweeping over his son, then Ethan, then Brooke, who was now cowering. "I am appalled. Utterly appalled."

He walked slowly into the room, his presence commanding absolute silence.

"Harrison," Lawrence' s voice was low, but it resonated with power. "Your aggression towards your sister, your public display of favoritism towards a guest who has clearly committed theft and deceit, and your audacity in trying to shut down an event I sanctioned... it is unacceptable."

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.

"Effective immediately, your access to all company funds is frozen. Your position as heir apparent is under review. You will report to my office tomorrow morning at eight. We have much to discuss about your future, or lack thereof, with Chenault Corporation."

Harrison stared, his jaw slack. The color drained from his face.

Lawrence then turned to Ethan Vance. "Mr. Vance. Your disrespect towards my daughter and my family is noted. You will be escorted from this estate immediately. And consider all business ties between Chenault Corporation and Vance Industries severed as of this moment. Our legal team will be in touch."

Ethan looked like he was going to be sick. He opened his mouth, then closed it, as security guards materialized and firmly guided him out.

Finally, Lawrence' s gaze fell on Brooke Ashley. She was trembling, the stolen Starlight gown suddenly looking like a costume of shame.

"Miss Ashley," Lawrence said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Your actions tonight are beneath contempt. You have abused my family' s hospitality and trust. All Chenault privileges are revoked. You will leave this estate. Now. And you will not return."

Brooke burst into genuine, terrified tears this time, but no one moved to comfort her. She was escorted out, a pathetic figure.

The ballroom was silent.

Lawrence Chenault walked to Ava. He gently took her hand.

His eyes, which had been so cold, softened as he looked at his daughter.

"Ava," he said, his voice now warm, full of pride. "You handled yourself with grace and strength. I am incredibly proud of you. This is your night. Let it continue."

He raised his voice to the stunned guests. "The gala continues! Enjoy yourselves!"

The music swelled again, a little hesitantly at first, then with more confidence.

Ava looked at her father, tears welling in her own eyes, but these were tears of gratitude, of love.

He had saved her. Just like in her dreams of how it should have been.

This time, it was real.