Chapter 154
Laura's POV
I watched Margaret and Aria's faces drain of color as they processed what they were seeing. The irony wasn't lost on me – the woman they'd dismissed and humiliated now held connections they couldn't dream of accessing.
"Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Aria," I greeted them with measured politeness, my voice steady despite the satisfaction coursing through me. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
Margaret's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. "Laura... how did you...?"
I held up the golden invitation, letting the morning sunlight catch its expensive surface. "I'm the project director for NaturaLuxe."
The power shift was immediate and intoxicating. These women who had once looked down on me now stared with something approaching awe.
Aria's voice, when it came, was softer than I'd ever heard it. "Laura, if you truly have such connections, perhaps you might consider helping the Harrison family through this difficult period?"
Margaret stepped forward with her usual arrogant attitude. "You should bring us inside. After all, we're family."
I couldn't help but laugh – a cold sound that cut through the morning air. "Family? Seeking help requires a certain attitude, don't you think? The proper approach when asking for favors?"
I watched Margaret's face as memories flickered across it – all the times she'd forced me to leave, the humiliation she'd heaped upon me. Fear crept into her eyes as she wondered if I would exact the same revenge Grace had unleashed.
Aria visibly swallowed her pride. "If you can help the Harrison family survive this crisis, I will no longer interfere in your relationship with Richard."
The concession hung in the air like a white flag of surrender. But our moment was short-lived.
As we approached the entrance together, a security guard stepped forward. "I'm sorry, but Harrison family members are on our exclusion list. Entry is strictly prohibited."
I felt my heart sink, but I stepped forward confidently. "I have VIP credentials from NaturaLuxe," I said, producing my invitation. "I'm not a Harrison family member – I'm here on business."
The guard examined my invitation carefully. "Ma'am, while your credentials are valid, you'll need to proceed separately from the excluded parties."
But I couldn't just abandon them now – not when I finally had the upper hand. "Surely there's been some misunderstanding," I pressed. "These ladies are my... business associates. Can't you make an exception?"
"Ma'am, I must ask you to step away from the excluded individuals and proceed to the entrance alone, or your association with blacklisted parties may require additional security review."
I felt trapped between my professional opportunity and this moment of power over the Harrison family. Against my better judgment, I tried one more time. "Look, I can vouch for them. My VIP status should carry some weight here."
The guard's expression hardened. "Ma'am, to avoid potential conflicts, your credentials will need to be temporarily suspended pending management review. Your association with blacklisted individuals requires verification from our event coordinators."
My blood ran cold. "You can't be serious. I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Please step aside while we contact the event management team. This is standard protocol when VIP guests attempt to circumvent security measures regarding excluded parties."
Panic clawed at my throat. I could call Russell, but how could I explain this family chaos without destroying my professional credibility?
Within minutes, security personnel swarmed us, efficiently pushing the Harrison family members away from the entrance. Aria stumbled, her breathing labored as Margaret struggled to support her.
I made one desperate attempt to enter alone, but the lead guard blocked my path. "Your credentials have been suspended."
Margaret turned to me with bitter satisfaction. "You're not using a fake identity to deceive us, are you?"
I angrily dialed Russell's number. Voicemail. His phone was in conference mode, unreachable.
---
Russell's POV
Inside the venue, I found myself genuinely impressed by Grace Wilson's opening presentation. I'd expected Robert Wilson's daughter to be trading on her family name, but she commanded the room with real expertise, speaking fluently in multiple languages without notes.
"She's quite remarkable," I murmured to a colleague. "Far from inexperienced."
During the break, a tech industry leader approached. "Russell, meet Grace Wilson."
Soon he brought me before her.
"Grace, this is Russell Edwards, president of NaturaLuxe from Aetheria."
Grace extended her hand professionally. "Mr. Edwards, I've researched you. You have unique insights into the fashion industry."
Something about her struck me as familiar, though I couldn't place it. "I feel like we've met before."
"Perhaps at industry events," she replied diplomatically, maintaining appropriate distance when I suggested a private dinner.
"Actually," the introducer interjected with a smile, "Grace is spoken for. She's married to Alex Morgan of Morgan International."
The Morgan name carried serious weight. This added new dimensions to my assessment of the Wilson heiress.
My phone had been buzzing insistently. During a quiet moment, I checked it – multiple missed calls from Laura. I stepped into the corridor and called her back.
"Russell, thank God," Laura's voice was strained. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it inside. The entrance security was very... strict."
I frowned. "Strict? I didn't encounter issues. Where are you?"
"At the Starbucks across the street," she replied carefully. "The venue management had... problems during the screening process."
Her tone suggested more to the story, but business waited for no one. "I'll wrap up here and meet you shortly."
Ending the conversation, I headed toward the venue exit.
---
Grace's POV
I quietly pushed open the front door of our apartment, hoping to surprise Alex with an early return. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across what had once been our peaceful living room.
However, I found myself stepping into what looked like a corporate battlefield.
The spacious living area had been transformed into a makeshift conference room. Alex sat in the center of our leather sectional, wearing a deep navy silk robe and gold-rimmed glasses, his hair slightly tousled from his afternoon rest. But despite his casual home attire, he radiated the same cold authority I'd witnessed in boardrooms.
Senior executives from Morgan International stood in formation on both sides of the sofa, like soldiers awaiting judgment. The atmosphere was suffocating – so quiet you could hear a pin drop. It felt like walking into a courtroom where the verdict was about to be delivered.
Lucas spotted me first. His eyes widened in panic, but he didn't dare speak. He just glanced nervously toward Alex, clearly torn between alerting his boss and maintaining the meeting's gravity.
During Alex's recovery, I'd been turning a blind eye to his work-from-home arrangements. Every afternoon, executives would come to brief him on Morgan International's operations. I understood his need to stay connected while healing from his injuries.
But this time... it felt different.