Chapter 146
Serena
The chaos that had erupted moments ago crystallized into absolute silence as every eye in the gallery fixed on Raymond.
His face drained of color so fast I thought he might faint.
"That's—" His voice cracked. "That's impossible. You can't be—I just—"
"Just what, Raymond?" Beatrice's tone could have frozen champagne. "Just locked me in my own guest room? Just forced me into that hideous hospital gown for your little photo shoot?"
"That's—" His voice cracked. "That's impossible. You can't be—I just—"
"Just what, Raymond?" Beatrice's tone could have frozen champagne. "Just locked me in my own guest room? Just forced me into that hideous hospital gown for your little photo shoot?"
The crowd erupted.
"He imprisoned his own mother?"
"Oh my God—"
"Did she say photo shoot?"
Raymond stumbled backward, hands raised as if to physically push away the accusation. "No! No, that's not—I was protecting you! You weren't thinking clearly, you needed to rest at home, and the gown—you put that on yourself! You wanted to wear it!"
The lie was so pathetic it was almost insulting.
Vincent stepped forward, and the smile on his face was pure satisfaction. "Actually, Mr. Ashford, we have quite a bit of evidence suggesting otherwise. Including the fact that you forcibly confined your mother and coerced her into wearing that gown specifically to photograph her in a compromised state."
"That's a lie!" Raymond's voice cracked. "She's my mother! I would never—"
"Save your excuses for the police," Beatrice cut him off, voice sharp as a blade.
As if summoned by her words, three NYPD officers materialized behind Vincent in the doorway. The lead detective—a woman in her forties with the kind of face that had seen too much bullshit to tolerate any more—stepped forward with her badge already out.
"Raymond Ashford, we have substantial evidence of unlawful imprisonment, elder abuse, and conspiracy to commit fraud. You need to come with us."
The gallery exploded into pandemonium.
Raymond's face went from white to crimson, sweat beading at his temples as he looked frantically between his mother, the detective, and the sea of horrified faces surrounding him. "This is insane! You're all insane! I was trying to protect her assets! This woman—" He jabbed a finger at me, voice rising to a near-shriek. "—this woman is the criminal! She conned my sick mother!"
The detective's expression didn't change. "Sir, I suggest you stop talking."
The officers moved in, and Raymond's protests grew more desperate as they cuffed him. The crowd watched in stunned silence as he was led away, still shouting about conspiracies and theft.
I should have felt triumph. Vindication.
Instead, I just felt exhausted. And when my gaze drifted to Felix, standing frozen near the back of the crowd with his jaw so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin, I felt something else entirely.
Rage.
He'd orchestrated this. Every piece of it. The timing was too perfect, Raymond's accusations too rehearsed, that phone call too conveniently devastating.
Felix had tried to destroy me in front of the entire New York elite.
And he'd failed.
Arthur was staring at the scene in open shock, his earlier excitement completely evaporated. He looked between Beatrice and me like he was trying to solve an equation that kept changing variables.
"But the voice," he said weakly. "On the phone, she sounded completely—"
"Deranged?" Lance's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd, smooth and cold. "That's because Raymond hired someone to answer the call and used AI voice synthesis. Modern technology is remarkable—you can make anyone sound like anything if you have the right recording to work with."
Arthur's face went through several shades of mortification before settling on a sickly gray. He turned to me, and for the first time since I'd met him, he looked genuinely ashamed.
"Miss Vance." His voice was rough. "I—God, I nearly believed him. I actually questioned whether you'd—" He shook his head, disgust clear in every line of his face. "I'm deeply sorry. From this moment forward, I give you my word—I will never doubt your character again."
I should have been gracious. Should have smiled and accepted his apology with appropriate humility.
Instead, I let my gaze slide to Felix, who was watching the disaster unfold with barely suppressed fury, and smiled.
"Don't apologize, Mr. Lawson." My voice carried across the gallery, sweet and sharp. "It's not your fault when someone's willing to use any tactic—no matter how despicable—to destroy you. What matters is that you weren't fooled in the end. And you still got an extraordinary piece of history."
Felix's eyes narrowed to slits. If looks could kill, I'd be a smear on the marble floor.
Lance stepped closer to his grandfather, one hand on the old man's shoulder. "She's right. This has been dramatic enough. Let's focus on what actually matters—you just acquired a masterpiece. That's worth celebrating."
Arthur's face brightened slightly, the resilience of the truly wealthy kicking in. "You're absolutely right, my boy." He turned back to me, and this time his smile was genuine. "Miss Vance, this has been the most memorable moment I've had in years. I'll have my people contact you this afternoon to finalize the transaction."
He started to turn away, then paused, a thought clearly occurring to him.
"Actually—Lance, why don't you handle the transaction personally?" Arthur's eyes twinkled with something that looked suspiciously like matchmaking glee. "Consider it practice for the next generation of Lawson-Vance business relations. You two should get to know each other better. For business purposes, naturally."
I felt Lance stiffen beside me, but when I glanced at him, his expression was perfectly controlled. Only the slight tension in his jaw betrayed any reaction.
Felix, on the other hand, looked like he'd swallowed broken glass.
"Of course, Arthur." Lance's voice was smooth. "I'd be happy to assist Miss Vance with the arrangements."
"Wonderful!" Arthur clapped his hands together, already moving toward the door with the energy of someone who'd gotten exactly what he wanted. "Come along then, Felix. Let's leave the young people to their business."
Felix had no choice but to follow, one hand supporting Arthur's elbow as they navigated through the thinning crowd. But just before he disappeared through the doorway, he turned back.
Our eyes met across the gallery.
The message in his gaze was crystal clear: This isn't over.
I smiled back, slow and deliberate. Bring it, you bastard.