Chapter 4 - The Charity Gala Trap
The annual Ambrose Foundation Gala was the social event of the season in San Diego. The grand ballroom of the coastal hotel was draped in white silk and dripping with crystal chandeliers. Elite politicians, wealthy socialites, and local celebrities mingled, sipping vintage champagne.
Janelle was in her element. Dressed in a breathtaking emerald gown—paid for by me—she floated from table to table, accepting compliments on her resilience and grace. Hugo sat at the head table, silent and hollow, sipping sparkling water.
Ryan was holding court near the bar, laughing with a group of investors. Beside him, dressed in a daring red dress, was Vanessa Sterling. She was technically there as the event coordinator, but the way her arm frequently brushed against Ryan's made my blood boil.
"You look stunning tonight, Mrs. Ambrose," a voice said behind me.
I turned to see Jaxson Drake. He was wearing a surprisingly sharp tuxedo.
"Jaxson," I said, keeping my voice low. "I'm surprised security let you in."
"A beautiful woman left a VIP pass for me at the front desk," he smirked, handing me a small flash drive under the table. "You paid me a hundred grand for my honesty. Here it is. Every text message, voice note, and video Janelle ever sent me. She bragged a lot about how her son was stealing from his 'stupid wife' to fund her lifestyle."
"Pleasure doing business with you, Jaxson. Now leave, before the fireworks start."
At 9:00 PM, it was time for the keynote speech. Janelle strutted onto the stage, adjusting the microphone. The room quieted down.
"Thank you, dear friends, for gathering tonight to support our foundation," Janelle began, her voice echoing perfectly. "For generations, the Ambrose family has stood for integrity, transparency, and the sanctity of the family unit..."
I signaled the A/V technician at the back of the room—a man I had paid handsomely earlier that afternoon.
Suddenly, the massive projector screen behind Janelle flickered. Instead of the charity's logo, a massive Excel spreadsheet appeared. It was detailed, highlighted, and impossible to misread.
Janelle didn't notice at first. "...And it is with that same integrity that we announce tonight's fundraising total!"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. People were squinting at the screen.
"Is that a bank statement?" someone in the front row asked loudly.
The screen shifted. It showed a wire transfer: $1.75 Million to Vanessa Sterling. Then a photo of Ryan and Vanessa kissing on a yacht. Then, an audio clip blasted through the surround-sound speakers.
“Don't worry about Charlotte, baby. She’s too busy working to check the accounts. We’ve got another two million lined up for the Paris house. The dumb bitch will never know.” Ryan’s voice filled the ballroom.
Ryan dropped his glass. It shattered, the sound echoing in the sudden, dead silence of the room.
Janelle turned around, finally seeing the screen. All the color drained from her face. "Turn that off! Turn it off right now!" she shrieked into the microphone, making the feedback squeal.
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But the presentation wasn't over. The screen shifted again, displaying a video of Janelle in the back of her SUV, explicitly negotiating the price of Jaxson’s Rolex in exchange for his "services."
The ballroom erupted. People were gasping, whispering furiously, pulling out their phones to record the chaos. The illusion of the Ambrose family was shattering in real-time, broadcast in 4K resolution.
