Chapter 4 - The Glass Table Confrontation
Dante guided Elena straight toward the center of the room, the crowd parting before them like the Red Sea. No one dared cross their path.
Richard Vane was the first to recover his composure, though his forehead was visibly slick with sweat. He rushed over from the head table, followed closely by Marcus, Vivien, and a furious Patricia.
“Mr. Salvatore,” Richard began, forcing a tight, nervous smile as he extended a hand. “We... we didn't expect the honor of your presence tonight. Had we known you were in the hotel, we would have prepared a private table for you.”
Dante ignored Richard’s outstretched hand completely, letting the older man’s arm drop back to his side in deep humiliation.
“I don't require your preparation, Vane,” Dante said, his grey eyes dropping over Richard with absolute indifference. “I came because my fiancée wished to pay her respects.”
Fiancée.
The word exploded like a bomb in the quiet room.
Marcus stepped forward, his eyes darting frantically between Elena and Dante. “Fiancée? What the hell is this, Elena? You can’t be serious. You were crying in my driveway three months ago!”
Before Elena could speak, Dante stepped slightly in front of her, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over Marcus.
“You will address her as Ms. Reyes,” Dante said, his voice dropping an octave into a low, lethal purr. “Or you will not speak at all.”
Marcus flinched, instinctively taking a step back. He knew who Dante Salvatore was. Every investment firm in the city knew that half of the private equity funds in Chicago were backed by Salvatore capital.
Patricia pushed her way through, her face flushed red. “This is ridiculous! Elena is a mechanic’s daughter! She was a server at a diner! She’s playing you, Mr. Salvatore! She’s using you to get back at my son because he realized she was nothing more than a common—”
“Patricia.”
Dante did not raise his voice, but the single word carried a cold authority that froze the older woman mid-sentence.
“Your son’s firm currently holds a twelve-million-dollar credit line backed by Salvatore Holdings,” Dante said calmly, resting his hand casually on Elena’s waist, pulling her flush against his side. “If you speak another word to my future wife, I will call my chief financial officer and liquidate that credit line before you reach the parking lot. Your son will be bankrupt by midnight.”
Patricia turned pale as a sheet. She clutched her pearl necklace, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
Vivien stepped up beside Marcus, her eyes glaring at Elena with venom. “This dress... this ring... it’s all fake. It has to be! Marcus gave her a cheap silver band because that’s all she deserved!”
Elena stepped forward, breaking her silence. She looked Vivien straight in the eye, her posture unyielding.
“Marcus gave me what he could afford,” Elena said, her voice smooth and resonant. “And you took him because you take whatever crumbs you can find. But Dante gave me this because he knows my worth.”
Elena held up her left hand, letting the light catch the flawless five-carat oval diamond.
Richard Vane’s eyes widened in horror as he recognized the piece. “That’s... that’s the Salvatore Empress Diamond. My God... it’s real.”
Vivien gasped, stepping back as if she had been slapped.
Dante looked down at Marcus, who was standing trembling beside his new bride, utterly shattered.
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“Enjoy your reception, Mr. Aldridge,” Dante said with a faint, chilling smile. “It will be the last high-society event you ever attend in this city.”
Without waiting for a response, Dante turned, guiding Elena toward the grand exit. Elena did not look back. She walked out of the ballroom on the arm of the most dangerous man in Chicago, leaving behind a ruined wedding and a room of people who would never speak her name with pity again.
