Chapter 89

Chapter 89
Garrett’s POV

I frowned immediately, my gaze going cold enough to freeze the entire room. Everyone else stared, expecting something like an explanation or reaction, but I wasn't planning on feeding anyone's ego.

“Someone like you wouldn't be able to relate.” I said flatly, turning my phone off.

“What does that mean?” she asked, but the chairman interrupted with a cough before the issue could escalated further.

“So, about the gala,” one of them, Mr. Halvorsen, said, adjusting his tie even though it didn’t need adjusting. “We’ve agreed on the idea, yes, but the question is when and where? We can’t just put it together overnight, and it can’t look sloppy. If it’s meant to make a statement, then it has to be done with precision.”

I nodded, tapping my pen absentmindedly on the folder in front of me. “He’s right. Timing is everything. If we want turnout, we have to pick a date that doesn’t conflict with half a dozen other charity drives happening across the state. People of influence are… picky.”

That drew a few laughs, short ones, but I wasn’t joking. I’d been in these circles long enough to know how quickly a great idea could crash just because someone with money had already committed elsewhere.

Across from me, Richard leaned forward. “What about mid October?”

“A couple of weeks from now?” Mrs. Flora asked.

“Yeah. Weather’s good, not too close to the holidays, and it gives us enough time to line up sponsors, send out invitations, and make a splash in the press.”

“Mid October could work,” another man countered. “But we’d need a venue that stands out. Hotels are too common, and half the people we’d invite practically live in ballrooms. If we want this to mean something, we should think outside of that.”

I found myself agreeing. “Something unique would give us an edge. A museum maybe? Or one of the new art galleries downtown. People love to feel like they’re supporting culture while writing checks.”

“You sure know your way around things like this, Mr. Blackthorn.”

“I have a few experience on it,” I said quickly.

“Please, go on. Let’s hear from your side first.” the chairman added, nodding to me.

I shifted my gaze across the table and I could see that everyone was in agreement, so I continued. “I was thinking the new museum by the riverside. It’s spacious, modern, and it’s got the kind of prestige attached that would look good in the press. They’d welcome the exposure.”

“That’s not a bad suggestion,” Halvorsen said. “It ties the charity angle to something cultural. And people will come just to say they’ve been in that space.”

“And if we do it there,” Mr Clarke added, “the media coverage practically writes itself. High ceilings, those glass walls, the view of the water. It’s photogenic.”

Conversations layered over each other, with some voices rising louder than others. I caught snatches about catering costs, about finding an orchestra or maybe a more modern band, about whether we should charge for tables or simply ask for direct donations at the door.

It was the usual dance of egos and practicality, each man trying to outdo the other with ideas that sounded both generous and smart.

The conversation soon shifted towards logistics, and this was were it became even more practical.

“How many people are we expecting?” Mrs. Flora asked, leaning back into her chair.

“Easily over three hundred. If we pitch it right, it could be more.” Mr. Adams answered.

“We should be careful then. Too many, and it’ll lose exclusivity.”

“Exclusivity is what brings the big money, yes, but we also need visibility. The press eats up numbers. The more packed it looks, the bigger the story.”

“Gala of the year certainly has a nice ring to the story. I'm digging that.”

I scribbled notes, not because I needed them but because it helped me stay focused. Every now and then, my hand drifted toward my phone again, wondering if she had sent another text. She hadn’t, but I could almost hear her voice in my head, soft and reassuring. It made the long winded arguments around me a little easier to bear.

Eventually, after another round of back and forth, we narrowed down the possibilities.

October, the riverside museum, and a guest list that would strike a balance between exclusivity and press appeal.

“Now,” Adams said, clearing his throat. “The real question: who do we invite?”

That immediately set the room alight. Names started flying left and right with no brakes, politicians, celebrities, local philanthropists, athletes. Each name came with baggage, with reasoning, with either support or opposition.

“Mr. Ankins Wilson.” one raised, and immediately almost everyone nodded in agreement.

“Inviting him will get us press, yes, but his scandals might overshadow everything else.”

“We will get the publicity we need regardless. We just have to try to keep him close, so he won't ruin anything.”

“Alright then. Miss. Julie Anderson.” he raised again.

“She’s perfect, clean reputation, big following too, and she’s always been vocal about community projects.”

“Yes, and she already sponsored two orphanage schools last year, her presence will push credibility to the gala.”

“Fine. What about Mr. Harold Benton?” another voice cut in.

“Harold is a strong name, he’s the one behind the new water project in the southern area. Bringing him in shows we’re serious about real change.”

“But his rivalry with Ankins Wilson is well known. If they clash in the same room it can go ugly.”

“We just have to manage it. If both attend, it shows balance. People will think we’re bringing everyone to the same table.”

“Next, Miss. Clarissa Moore.”

A few people exchanged looks before anyone spoke.

“She’s an author, philanthropist, and lately her speeches about rebuilding rural communities have gone viral. She’s not controversial, but some say she’s too outspoken.”

“Outspoken is better than being fake. Her followers love her honesty, and we need that energy at the gala.”

“Alright, let’s list her down then. Mr. Darren Lewis.”

Everyone murmured at once.

“He’s the youngest tech billionaire, only twenty seven, and he already built three foundations. But he’s also arrogant, doesn’t show respect in public events.”

“Still, his numbers are unmatched. One post from him can push this gala on every trend chart worldwide. We can’t ignore that.”

“True. We’ll just have to seat him smartly, maybe not close to Ankins Wilson, or it will turn into a show.”

“How about... Dr Richard?” One said and my gaze narrowed towards him.