The invincible Tony Clark

chapter 7- The Celebration

"Good evening, Star City! This is Rachel Monroe reporting live from what can only be described as the biggest social event since the last Ragnar Gala forty years ago!"

Standing beneath a blazing canopy of camera lights, the glamorous news anchor raised her voice over the roar of the crowd.

Behind her, an endless line of limousines stretched down the boulevard, depositing celebrities, politicians, and global influencers onto the red carpet from all corners of the world.

Several hundred yards back, standing outside the towering iron gates, Vivian and her mother stared at the glittering estate in awe.

"Has Liam picked up yet?" Margaret asked anxiously, craning her neck over the velvet ropes.

"No," Vivian murmured, tapping her screen to dial his number yet again as the call went straight to voicemail.

Margaret clicked her tongue in frustration. "I still don't understand why he didn't send us an invitation for tonight. We don't even know what this party is celebrating! Still, if we want to move up into Star City's top class, we cannot afford to miss this."

When it finally reached their turn at the checkpoint, Margaret stepped forward with her chin held high. "Margaret and Vivian Clark. We are here with the Foster family."

Scanning his digital tablet, the head security guard shook his head flatly. "Your names aren't on the list, ma'am. Entry is denied."

Margaret’s face flushed crimson, her mouth opening to cause a scene—until she spotted the bank of live news cameras just steps away. Getting thrown out in front of the national press would ruin them forever.

Pulling her mother out of line, Vivian pointed discreetly toward a dimly lit delivery path curving around the hedges. "Come on. The servants' entrance is our only option."

"The servants' entrance?!" Margaret wept into her silk handkerchief as she stumbled after her daughter in her heels. "How have we fallen so low that we have to sneak in with the kitchen help? Damn that Liam Foster for putting us through this!"

Slipping through an unguarded catering door, they navigated a narrow service hallway before pushing through a pair of swinging doors into the main foyer. Both women froze in their tracks.

Towering marble columns, golden crests, and crystal chandeliers the size of yachts gleamed overhead.

"Wait..." Vivian gasped, her eyes widening as she recognized the family insignia on the banners. "We're inside the Ragnar Mansion!"

Looking out across the vast ballroom, they were completely overwhelmed—didn't even know where to start.

To their left stood five-star buffet tables piled high with caviar and lobster; to their right, A-list celebrities and famous public figures mingled casually with champagne in hand.

Letting out an excited shriek, Margaret squeezed Vivian’s arm before the two parted ways to work the room.

Making a beeline straight for the food section, Margaret grabbed a porcelain plate and began greedily heaping it with expensive delicacies. Halfway down the table, however, she noticed a man standing beside her doing the exact same thing.

Looking up at his sharply tailored charcoal suit, she froze as she recognized his face.

"Tony?!" Margaret sneered, looking him up and down in disbelief. "What on earth are you doing in that suit? Don't tell me they hired you as one of the servers tonight!"

Calmly placing a pair of silver tongs back on the tray, Tony turned to face his former mother-in-law. "I could ask you the same thing, Margaret. How did you get in here?"

Margaret’s eyes bulged with indignation. How dare this penniless loser question a high-society woman like her? Raising her voice, she waved over two nearby patrolmen. "Security! Get over here immediately! Why is this lowly waiter questioning a VIP guest?!"

Stepping up to the buffet, the lead guard looked politely at Margaret. "I'm sorry for the disturbance, ma'am. May I see your VIP pass?"

"My... my pass?" Margaret stammered, her arrogance faltering. "Well, I didn't bring it with me, I came with—"

"Without a pass, ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside with us for a moment," the guard interrupted firmly.

"Do you know who I am?! My daughter is marrying Liam Foster!" Margaret shrieked, lying and thrashing violently as the two guards seized her arms and dragged her kicking and screaming out the side doors.

Watching her disappear, Tony let out a quiet sigh and turned back toward the ballroom. Across the floor, he spotted his ex-wife wandering through the crowd, craning her neck as she searched for someone.

"Quite a party, huh?"

At the sound of the smooth voice behind him, Tony turned to find Harold Foster approaching with two glasses of wine, trailed closely by a pale, stiff-looking Liam.

Stopping in front of Tony, Harold offered a practiced, humble smile. "Tony, I wanted to apologize again for my son's disgraceful behavior at the hospital earlier today. In fact, Liam came over specifically because he'd like to apologize to you himself."

Nudged sharply by his father's elbow, Liam swallowed his pride, his jaw clenching as he forced the words past his teeth.

"I'm... sorry about earlier, Tony."

"Now that that's settled," Harold said smoothly, extending one of the wine glasses toward Tony, "let's make a toast to putting the past behind—"

"Liam!"

Before Tony could touch the glass, Vivian’s voice cut through the chatter as she hurried over in her red gown. "Thank goodness! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Annoyance flashed across Liam’s face at the sight of her here, though Vivian was too busy glaring at Tony to notice.

"Tony?!" Vivian scoffed, curling her lip in disgust as she looked at her ex-husband. "What the hell is a piece of street trash like you doing at an elite gala? Did you sneak in to steal leftovers?"

"Shut the fuck up, Vivian!"

Liam’s terrified roar echoed across the floor, silencing everyone within twenty feet. Cold sweat poured down his forehead as he glared at a stunned Vivian, his whole body trembling in panic.

"Are you out of your damned mind, woman?!" Liam yelled, his voice cracking with fear. "Keep your filthy mouth shut and don't you *dare* insult my cousin!"