Chapter 5

Allie Valenzuela POV:

The chandeliers of the St. Regis ballroom cast a warm, golden glow over the assembled titans of the tech industry. This was the annual Innovator' s Gala, a night of self-congratulation and high-stakes networking. I was here as the project lead for our new partnership with Valenzuela Holdings-a deal I had single-handedly brokered, a deal that would secure Innovatech' s future for the next decade.

It was also, I had decided, my farewell tour.

I was deep in conversation with the CFO of a rival firm, dissecting the finer points of a recent market fluctuation, when a familiar, unwelcome presence materialized at my side.

Kasey Ballard.

She was clinging to Benjamin' s arm like a designer handbag, squeezed into a sequined monstrosity that was at least two sizes too small and entirely wrong for a black-tie event. She looked cheap and out of place, a gaudy bauble in a room full of understated elegance.

Benjamin, for his part, looked uncomfortable. But he smiled gamely as he joined our conversation. "Ah, Allie, holding court as usual."

I gave a polite nod. "Benjamin. I was just discussing the potential impact of the Fed' s latest announcement with Mr. Chen."

Benjamin nodded, his eyes lighting up with genuine interest. "Right, the ripple effects on venture capital could be significant. I think..."

He was cut off by Kasey tugging on his sleeve. "Benny, this is so boring. Let' s go get some champagne."

Before he could respond, Kasey turned to me, her smile a slash of bright red lipstick. "Allie, you are just amazing," she gushed, her voice sickeningly sweet. "You work so hard. Day and night. You must really, really love this company."

She paused, letting her words sink in, her eyes twinkling with malice. "I mean, the things you must have to do to land a deal like the one with Valenzuela Holdings... It' s so impressive. I want to thank you, personally, for all your... sacrifices."

The word 'sacrifices' hung in the air, weighted with her filthy insinuation. She was painting me as a prostitute in front of one of the most respected executives in the valley.

The small circle of people around us fell silent. Mr. Chen' s smile faltered. The air grew thick with unspoken accusations.

My blood ran cold, but my voice, when I spoke, was steady. "The Valenzuela deal was won on the merit of our technology and the strength of our proposal, Kasey. It was the result of months of professional, data-driven negotiation by our entire team."

I was defending my team, defending my work. Defending my honor.

Kasey just giggled, a high-pitched, empty sound. She gave Benjamin' s arm a squeeze. "Oh, Allie, you' re so serious! I' m just saying, a girl' s gotta do what a girl' s gotta do, right? Use what your mama gave you."

She winked, a gesture so vulgar it made my stomach turn.

Even Benjamin looked horrified. "Kasey," he hissed, his voice low and angry. "That is completely inappropriate."

Kasey' s face fell. She pouted, her lower lip trembling. "What? I was just joking! Why are you always taking her side? Are you sleeping with her? Is that it?"

It was then that she "tripped."

Her movement was so swift, so deliberate, it was almost elegant. One moment she was holding a full flute of champagne, the next, it was arcing through the air, a golden spray of liquid and glass aimed directly at me.

The cold, sticky champagne soaked the front of my silk gown. The delicate fabric, a pale silver, was instantly ruined, turning dark and transparent. It clung to my skin, outlining the shape of my bra, my stomach, my hips, for everyone to see.

A collective gasp went through the small crowd. I was exposed, humiliated, standing in a puddle of champagne and broken glass.

Kasey clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with fake horror. "Oh my god! I am so, so sorry! I' m such a klutz."

But as she looked at me, at my ruined dress and exposed body, I saw a flicker of triumph in her eyes. A cruel, satisfied smile played on her lips for a split second before the mask of contrition fell back into place.

She had done this on purpose. This was not an accident. This was a calculated, public assault.

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