Chapter 7 - The Gala of WolvesThe annual Metropolitan Charity Ball was the epicenter of high-society influence. As Julian’s limousine pulled up to the grand pavilion, flashbulbs erupted in a blinding cascade. Julian emerged first, stepping into the glare, before turning to offer his hand to Clara.
She wore a gown of her own making: an understated emerald silk dress with structured, comfortable seams that radiated quiet elegance. As they walked the red carpet, she held Julian's arm not out of obligation, but out of solidarity.
Inside, the room was thick with tension. Arthur stood near the champagne fountain with a cluster of influential city councilors. When he saw Clara, his jaw tightened. Ethan was also present, standing awkwardly beside Victoria, whose strained smile barely concealed her mounting misery.
"Good evening, Uncle," Julian greeted smoothly, stopping near the primary donor table.
Arthur chuckled coldly. "Enjoy your little victory while it lasts, nephew. The audit on the pediatric grants begins next Monday. We’ll see how much philanthropy your new bride can afford when the city pulls the zoning permits."
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"The permits won't be pulled, Arthur," Clara said, stepping forward. Her voice was steady, carrying clearly across the surrounding crowd. "Because the city didn't grant them. The Vance Foundation transferred the property titles directly into a public community trust this morning. Even if Julian stepped down tomorrow, those centers belong to the children forever."
Arthur’s face paled. The surrounding patrons began whispering, admiring the brilliant legal maneuver that effectively stripped Arthur of his leverage. Julian looked down at Clara, his eyes shining with unmistakable pride.
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