The Midnight Thief

Chapter 6

The grand ballroom of the Bisconsley estate glittered with diamonds and crystal, hosting only the most powerful names in the city. Caroline Bisconsley, the matriarch who held an absolute empire after the passing of her beloved husband Benedict, stood near the edge of the room. Her sharp eyes scanned the wealthy crowd before landing on two very different men standing across the hall.

She turned to her granddaughter, Laurel, pointing a delicate finger toward them.

“The orange-haired man is Marlon Vance, the only son of Gregory Vance,” Caroline murmured softly. “He is set to inherit at least half of the Vance family fortune.”

Laurel tilted her head, unimpressed. “He looks ordinary enough. What about the other man standing next to him?”

“That is Charles Wallace,” Caroline replied, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue. “A mysterious professional gambler who took the high-stakes world by storm. He’s undefeated in official tournaments and has hundreds of millions sitting in his bank account.”

Laurel’s eyes widened slightly. “Charles Wallace? Is he the one who won thirty million at the Bisconsley charity event last month and then challenged the entire city to a poker duel?”

“The very same,” Caroline nodded with a knowing smile. “Men like him are dangerous, but they are also powerful tools if you know how to handle them.”

Unbeknown2 to both women, the man they were dissecting was standing just a few yards away, listening to every word through his enhanced senses. Leo wearing the polished, untouchable mask of Charles Wallace—kept his expression cool and collected. He had no personal quarrel with the Bisconsley family, but to tear down the Vance empire, he needed allies of equal stature who could withstand the oncoming storm.

Before Laurel could wander over to introduce herself, a stunning woman in a teal designer dress swept into Leo’s line of sight. It was Sophie.

She flashed her trademark, camera-ready smile, stepping right up to him as nearby guests turned to stare. “Hi. I remember you from earlier. Do you recall me?” she asked, her voice dripping with calculated charm.

Leo looked down at her. Underneath the expensive perfume, the flawless makeup, and the angelic facade, he saw the exact same woman who had watched without a shred of pity while Andres broke his knees. She was a poisonous thorn wrapped in silk. Yet, instead of turning her away, Leo kept his face perfectly calm, playing right into her trap.

“Of course,” Leo replied smoothly, taking her hand for a brief, formal shake. “How could I ever forget a face like yours?”

Sophie chuckled lightly, enjoying the attention. She assumed he was just another wealthy man hypnotized by her beauty. “You never told me your full name, Mr. Charles.”

“Just Charles,” he said, keeping his eyes locked onto hers with steady, unreadable intensity. As a waiter walked by carrying a tray of wine glasses, Leo placed a hundred-dollar bill onto the plate—a casual display of wealth that subtly impressed her. “And as for what I do, it’s no secret. I play professional poker.”

“It’s a tough game,” Sofia said, sipping her drink. “You must be winning handsomely.”

“More than enough,” Leo answered smoothly.

Without missing a beat, Sophie asked for his phone number, assuming he would jump at the chance to take her out. He handed it over with a polite grin, knowing full well she wouldn't give him hers, she always needed to feel like she held the upper hand.

As soon as she walked away to mingle elsewhere, Laurel stepped smoothly into her place, offering a warm, refreshing smile.

“You certainly know how to draw a crowd, Charles,” Laurel said, raising her wine glass in a silent toast. “Half the men in this room look like they want to challenge you to a duel.”

“Then I’d better watch my back,” Leo replied with a charming, easygoing laugh, playing the charismatic alpha male to perfection.

Unlike Sophie, who relied entirely on manipulation and vanity, Laurel possessed a sharp, calculating intellect that made her a fascinating player on the board. They exchanged witty remarks about the boring speeches and the absurd gifts people brought to elderly matriarchs. But before their conversation could go deeper, a clumsy collision shattered the air.

A young woman in a velvet maroon dress holding a heavy tray stumbled backward, spilling red wine directly down the front of Laurel’s expensive designer gown.

Laurel’s face twisted into an instant mask of aristocratic fury. Her hand cocked back instinctively, ready to deliver a vicious, public slap across the face of the clumsy girl.

The girl, Nora, Sophie’s quiet, downtrodden younger sister, squeezed her eyes shut behind her thick glasses, bracing for the blow. She was used to being the punching bag of the family, abused and silenced at every turn.

But the slap never landed.

A firm, unyielding hand caught Laurel’s wrist mid-swing. The grip was steady as iron.

Laurel gasped, spinning around to demand an apology, only to find herself staring into the dark, piercing eyes of Charles Wallace.

“Easy, Miss Bisconsley,” Leo said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying an understated, absolute authority that made Laurel freeze in her tracks. “Accidents happen. There’s no need to ruin a celebration over a spilled glass of wine.”

Nora opened her eyes, staring up through her thick lenses in absolute shock that a man of Charles’s stature had stepped in to protect her. Across the room, Sophie narrowed her eyes, watching the exchange with a sudden, nagging spike of suspicion.

Leo released Laurel’s wrist, offering Nora a gentle, reassuring nod. But beneath his calm exterior, a dark storm raged. He knew what Nora’s family had put her through, locking her away, starving her, treating her like an animal just like they had treated him.

“They hurt everyone who gets close to them,” Leo thought, watching Nora hurry away into the crowd. “And very soon, they will pay for every single tear.”