Shattered Mask

CHAPTER 10

The ballroom held its collective breath as the spotlight centered on the empty podium. The Master of Ceremonies cleared his throat, his expression a mix of professional poise and slight apology.

"Distinguished guests," the MC announced,

"I have just received word that the Heir is currently in transit. A small matter of business required his personal attention, but he is expected to join us shortly to begin the formal ceremonies, however, although he is not here yet, we can still begin the ceremony as we await his presence …."

A murmur of disappointment rippled through the crowd, but for the Smiths, it felt like a reprieve.

"He is on his way," Robert whispered, his eyes darting around.

"We still have time to get Harnes to flip. If we can just get him to see reason before the boss walks in..."

Linda turned back to Harnes, her face desperate.

"Harnes, you heard him. The Heir is not here yet. This is your chance. Reinstate the contracts now, and we will make sure the Chairman never hears about your 'incompetent' motor pool staff. It’s a win for everyone." Linda said, her voice shifting from pleading, to threatening

Harnes didn't answer.

He was looking past Linda, his eyes fixed on a security guard who was stationed at the door.

Harnes nodded once, a cold, sharp movement, and then stepped onto the stage. He leaned in and whispered something to the Master of Ceremonies, and stepped down shortly after.

The MC’s face hardened instantly. He tapped the microphone, the sharp thud silencing the room.

"Apologies for the interruption," the MC said, his voice now devoid of its previous warmth.

"It has come to our attention that despite our rigorous vetting process, there are individuals in this room who do not possess a valid invitation. Individuals who have used false pretenses to infiltrate this private event."

The Smiths looked around, confused.

"Who would be that desperate?" Leslie whispered, clutching her champagne glass.

"Security," the MC said, pointing a gloved hand directly toward the VIP table where the Smiths were standing.

"Please escort the Smith-Williams party out of the building immediately. They are no longer welcome on Rothwell property." He said with a firm and strict voice

The blood drained from Linda’s face. The entire room turned as one, hundreds of eyes ... the eyes of their former peers, their competitors, and the city’s most powerful figures ... landing on them with looks of pure disgust.

"Wait. There has been a mistake" Robert shouted as four massive security guards in black suits materialized behind them.

"I am Robert Williams. I am the CEO of Riverworth. We were talking to Mr Harnes!"

"Mr. Williams has no affiliation with Riverworth," Harnes said into the microphone, his voice echoing with finality.

"And Mrs. Smith’s company has been permanently blacklisted for unethical conduct. They are trespassers. Remove them."

"No. You can't do this!" Leslie shrieked as a guard grabbed her by the upper arm.

"My husband works for you. Jack. Tell them, Mr Harnes. Tell them Jack is your driver!"

The guests began to hiss and whisper. “A driver’s family?” “How pathetic.” “Imagine trying to gatecrash a Rothwell gala.”

"Get your hands off me" Linda screamed, her pearls snapping and scattering across the marble floor like hail as she struggled.

The guards didn't hesitate. They didn't just lead them out; they hauled them through the center of the ballroom. The Smiths were dragged past the buffet, past the orchestra, and through the grand doors, their desperate protests echoing off the high ceilings.

The final blow came at the curb.

The guards didn't stop at the entrance; they marched the Smiths straight to the edge of the parking lot, where the elite guests were still arriving. With a coordinated shove, the guards sent Robert and Linda sprawling onto the pavement, right at the feet of the black chauffeur-driven cars.

"And stay out," the head guard growled.

Leslie scrambled to her feet, her expensive gown torn and stained with road dust. She looked up and saw the black Rolls-Royce Phantom still parked in the VIP bay.

Jack was still there. He was leaning against the hood, a glass of sparkling water in his hand, watching the entire scene with an expression of mild, detached interest.

"Jack," Leslie wailed, stumbling toward him. "Tell them… Tell them we are with you … Make them let us back in"

Jack took a slow sip of his water, then looked at her ... not with anger, but with the cold, distant pity one feels for a stranger.

"I am just the driver, Leslie," Jack said quietly.

" I have no power here, and as you said... I am a bug under your boots. Why would the Rothwells listen to a bug?"

He turned and opened the rear door of the Rolls-Royce, as if preparing for a passenger who was about to arrive. He didn't look back at them again.

The Smiths stood on the sidewalk, shivering in the night air, ruined and rejected, while the music from the gala drifted down to them ... a celebration of a world they were no longer allowed to touch.