Chapter 3 - The Billionaire's Unexpected Ally|
The applause began before Laurel reached the ballroom.
Preston stood beneath the enormous crystal chandelier, holding a microphone like a man accepting an award he had given himself.
Camille stood beside the stage.
Her silver gown shimmered beneath the lights.
“Tonight,” Preston announced, “Wade Meridian is proud to introduce a revolutionary new donation platform designed to make generosity easier, faster, and more transparent.”
Laurel stopped beside the service entrance.
Her stomach dropped.
The technology wasn't scheduled.
It hadn't been approved by the charity.
And most importantly, nobody had authorized Preston to announce it.
June appeared at Laurel's shoulder.
“Please tell me you know what's happening.”
“I know exactly what's happening.”
“That's not the reassuring answer I wanted.”
Laurel looked at the tablet.
The official Brightstep donation portal showed a sudden wave of failed transactions.
Twenty-three.
Thirty-one.
Forty-eight.
Every failed payment directed guests toward an unfamiliar replacement page.
Wade Meridian's logo appeared at the bottom.
Laurel felt sick.
Preston was manufacturing the problem his company intended to solve.
And he was doing it while four hundred wealthy donors watched.
Roman came to stand beside her.
“Don't touch the payment settings,” he said.
Laurel turned.
“Why?”
“Because whoever changed them wants your fingerprints on the repair.”
She stared at him.
“Digital fingerprints?”
“Exactly.”
He held up his phone.
“I've already captured the routing records.”
“Who are you?”
Roman glanced toward Preston.
“Tonight?”
His expression darkened.
“The man who's going to make his presentation very uncomfortable.”
Before Laurel could respond, Preston raised his hand.
“Unfortunately, we've just learned that the Halcyon's existing donation system is experiencing technical difficulties.”
A murmur spread across the room.
Laurel closed her eyes for half a second.
There it was.
The trap.
“Luckily,” Preston continued, “our team is prepared to offer an immediate solution.”
Caleb Sutter stepped onto the stage.
Laurel couldn't believe it.
He smiled into the microphone.
“With the permission of our valued sponsors, we're pleased to test this innovative platform tonight.”
June whispered something unprintable.
Roman looked at Laurel.
“Can you stop him?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it.”
She hesitated.
Stopping a donor presentation in front of the Halcyon's wealthiest guests could cost her job.
Allowing hundreds of people to enter their financial information into an unauthorized system could cost much more.
Laurel remembered Ben's frightened expression.
One mistake does not become your whole night unless you let it.
She handed June her tablet.
“Call the charity's executive director.”
“Already dialing.”
“Tell her to suspend all electronic donations temporarily.”
“Done.”
Laurel stepped into the ballroom.
“Mr. Wade.”
Her voice wasn't loud.
But it carried.
Preston turned.
His smile froze.
“Laurel.”
“Please discontinue the demonstration.”
The guests went quiet.
Caleb descended from the stage.
“Laurel, what do you think you're doing?”
“My job.”
Preston laughed.
“Everyone, please excuse the interruption.”
He looked at her with false concern.
“She's had a difficult evening.”
Laurel felt hundreds of eyes settle on her.
She could have retreated.
She could have apologized.
Instead, she lifted her chin.
“The platform being displayed has not been approved by Brightstep Children's Center.”
Preston's expression sharpened.
“That's incorrect.”
“Then please identify the charity representative who signed the authorization.”
Silence.
A woman near the front lowered her champagne glass.
Preston cleared his throat.
“The paperwork is being finalized.”
“Then it hasn't been authorized.”
Caleb stepped toward her.
“That's enough.”
Laurel didn't move.
“Donors should not enter payment details until the organization verifies the transaction destination.”
The ballroom erupted in whispers.
Preston stepped down from the stage.
His charming expression disappeared the moment he reached her.
“You have no idea what you're doing,” he hissed.
Laurel stared at him.
“Actually, I do.”
“You're embarrassing yourself.”
“No, Preston.”
She looked toward the giant screen.
“I'm embarrassing you.”
He reached for her tablet.
Roman moved between them.
Fast.
Not aggressively.
Simply decisively.
“Don't,” Roman said.
Preston stopped.
His eyes traveled from Roman's tattooed hands to his face.
“And who exactly are you?”
Roman smiled without warmth.
“The person you forgot to account for.”
Preston scoffed.
“Security?”
“Sometimes.”
“Then remove her.”
Roman looked toward Elias, who was approaching from the front tables.
“Should I?”
Elias didn't glance at Preston.
“Ms. Hensley stays.”
Preston's face changed.
It was a small transformation.
But Laurel saw every detail.
Recognition.
Confusion.
Fear.
“Elias,” Preston said quickly, “this is a misunderstanding.”
“Mr. Wade,” Elias replied, “I believe my office has requested that you refrain from presenting our company as a prospective partner.”
Preston's smile vanished.
Elias continued.
“You've also publicly announced an arrangement with a children's charity that apparently hasn't approved it.”
Caleb stepped forward.
“Perhaps we should discuss this privately.”
“We will,” Elias said.
“But not before the donation platform is secured.”
Roman raised his phone.
“It already is.”
He glanced at Laurel.
“Ms. Hensley made the correct call before any replacement payments were processed.”
A woman near the stage began clapping.
Then another guest joined.
Then a third.
Laurel felt heat rise into her cheeks.
She hadn't expected applause.
She had expected dismissal.
From the stage, Brightstep's executive director, Dr. Evelyn Mercer, approached the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience.”
Her voice was steady.
“Until our independent payment provider completes verification, all pledges will be recorded through our established paper commitment process.”
Laurel nearly cried with relief.
The evening could continue.
The children could still receive their funding.
But Preston wasn't finished.
He stepped back and pulled out his phone.
Laurel watched him type something.
Seconds later, June's tablet chimed.
Then chimed again.
And again.
June looked at the screen.
Her face drained of color.
“Laurel.”
“What?”
“Someone posted a video of you confronting Preston.”
Laurel frowned.
“That just happened.”
“It's already spreading.”
June turned the screen.
The video began with Laurel walking toward the stage.
It omitted Preston's unauthorized announcement.
It omitted his attempt to grab her device.
It included only her demand that the demonstration stop.
A caption ran across the bottom.
BITTER EX-GIRLFRIEND SABOTAGES CHARITY EVENT AFTER SEEING BILLIONAIRE EX WITH NEW WOMAN.
Laurel stared at the words.
Then she saw the account that had posted the clip.
May you like
It belonged to Camille Dorsey.
And the video already had thirty-eight thousand views.
