Chapter 8: The Confrontation
The flashbulbs were blinding as Ethan stepped out of the black town car. The paparazzi expected him to be alone, a disgraced bachelor. Instead, he reached his hand back into the car.
Sarah emerged, looking breathtaking in a simple, elegant midnight-blue gown that Ethan had bought for her. She was nervous, her grip on Ethan’s arm tight. He placed his hand over hers, grounding her.
As they entered the grand ballroom, the room went dead silent. Whispers erupted like a wildfire. Standing at the center of the room, holding a glass of champagne, was Eleanor.
Eleanor approached them, a wicked, condescending smile on her face. ""Ethan, darling. How brave of you to bring the domestic staff to a black-tie event. Did she have to clean the floors before she put on the dress?""
Ethan didn't flinch. He looked at Eleanor with a calm, devastating pity. ""Eleanor, true class isn't about the name you were born with or the price of your dress. It's about how you treat people. A lesson you have never learned. Sarah has more grace in her little finger than you have in your entire lineage.""
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He turned to the crowd, his voice projecting. ""This woman and her remarkable daughter have reminded me what it means to be human. If anyone in this room has a problem with that, my company will gladly sever all ties with you tomorrow.""
No one spoke. Eleanor’s face flushed scarlet. She turned and fled the room, a mirror image of the day she had been thrown out of the penthouse.
