Ethan Storm’s Dark Awakening

9

Sierra’s face turned pale. “What the hell is going on?” she hissed at Marcus, her voice sharp with panic. “You said we were on the list!”

“I—I don’t know,” Marcus stammered, loosening his tie as sweat beaded at his temple. “This can’t be right. Maxime promised—”

Just then, as if summoned by their desperation, Maxime Trent emerged from the side of the banquet hall, striding through the crowd with the confidence of a man who always believed he was in control. He held a half-filled whiskey glass, swirled the amber liquid lazily, and glanced around as if he hadn’t just sent two reputations into freefall.

“Boss!” Marcus blurted out, springing from his seat. He almost knocked over his chair in his hurry, dragging Sierra with him as he intercepted Maxime midway. “Boss, what’s going on? You told me Sierra’s company would be on the list!”

Sierra’s heels clicked frantically as she followed, her perfectly painted lips pressed in a thin line.

Maxime blinked, genuinely confused, but his expression smoothed into a casual smile. “Marcus, calm down,” he said, patting his shoulder. “There must be some kind of mix-up.”

Sierra stepped forward, her voice sharp and trembling. “You told us—my company was on that list. You guaranteed it.”

“But we weren’t called!” Sierra cried. “MorganTech was! That girl—Alice—she’s from there.”

Maxime frowned deeply, finally grasping the storm forming. “That’s… that doesn’t make sense.”

Marcus grabbed his sleeve. “Boss, I gave you a lot of support—financial and otherwise—because you said you could get Sierra’s company on the list.”

Maxime held up a hand. “And I stand by what I said.”

He was genuinely confused. Just yesterday afternoon, he’d seen the final list of cooperating companies while casually chatting with Elsa in her office. Sierra’s company was on it—he was certain. That was why he’d felt bold enough to assure Marcus and Sierra that she was in.

In reality, Maxime had no authority to modify the cooperation list. But since he’d seen it in advance and Sierra’s company had been included, he had shamelessly lied, telling Marcus that it was he who pulled strings and secured Sierra a spot. It had earned him support—financial and political—from Marcus, and he had enjoyed the praise.

So when MorganTech’s name was read out instead, and not Sierra’s, Maxime’s smug confidence faltered into genuine alarm.

“Alice’s company? MorganTech?” Sierra hissed, still trying to process the public humiliation. Her eyes darted to where Alice sat—poised and smug, calmly sipping her wine like a queen watching peasants fumble.

Sierra’s jaw locked. Her gaze snapped back to Maxime. “It’s him,” she whispered furiously. “That Ethan guy. He has a supreme badge—he’s an impostor! He had to steal it or forge it or something!”

Marcus caught on fast. “That’s right!” he added, his voice gaining volume. “He tricked someone—he must have convinced the host to switch the names. Sierra was supposed to be on that list!”

Maxime’s mind churned. Ethan. They said he had a badge, hadn’t he?

A supreme VIP badge.

But those were nearly impossible to forge.

Unless…

Wait. Maxime’s expression darkened.

Ethan had no power to change that list.

But if he had used the badge to manipulate someone… The host? Could he have convinced the host that MorganTech was the rightful partner?

Maxime turned abruptly, cutting through the noise of the banquet hall. He marched up to the stage, his jaw tight and steps sharp.

“Mr. Laurence,” he called out to the host, his tone sharper than before.

The host turned, startled by the interruption.

“Did you make a mistake?” Maxime asked coldly. “Are you sure that was the finalized list? Because the official decision was Sierra’s company. Everyone knew it.”

The murmurs in the banquet hall surged like a wave.

“What’s going on?”

“They made a mistake on the list?”

“I thought this was a professional event—how could they mess that up?”

“Wasn’t it ScottCorp company? She bragged about it for weeks!”

“But Alice Morgan clapped like she knew she’d win…”

“Is someone cheating their way in?”

The host’s face turned an alarming shade of red. He stepped forward, clutching his cue cards. “Mr. Trent,” he said firmly, voice echoing through the hall, “this is the official list given to me this morning. It was finalized by the executive office—I had no authority to alter it.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t changed? Not even last-minute?” Maxime pressed.

“No, sir. The document I received was already printed, signed, and sealed. The list you heard was the original one.”

A heavy silence fell.

Maxime’s brows furrowed. That means someone interfered before the list even reached the host.

“Someone clearly did something,” Maxime muttered. “And I think it’s this guy, Ethan! Alice wasn’t even supposed to attend. Neither of them were on the guest list.”

Gasps rippled through the hall.

“What? They weren’t invited?”

“Then how did they get in?”

“That’s sketchy…”

“I bet they sneaked in and rigged the whole thing.”

“Call security!”

The tension cracked. Several uniformed security personnel rushed forward, surrounding Ethan and Rosanna’s table. Guests craned their necks, some standing to get a better view. Phones were subtly raised, trying to capture footage.

Ethan rose slowly, pushing back his chair with measured calm. His eyes narrowed, and his hand instinctively moved to shield Alice as he stepped forward.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked coolly, but the guards moved in without answering.

Alice’s eyes widened. “Ethan—”

“Don’t move,” a guard warned, approaching with handcuffs.

“Hold it!”

A sharp, commanding voice echoed through the hall.

A woman stood near the entrance, dressed in an elegant midnight-blue gown, her heels clicking authoritatively as she stepped forward. Her eyes, sharp as glass, cut through the room as she addressed the security.

“Stand down,” she said again, louder this time. “Do not touch him.”

The guards hesitated. So did Maxime.

The woman reached the edge of the stage and calmly turned toward the host. “There is no mistake with the list. MorganTech belongs on it.”