Chapter 13: The Gala Showdown

The rain whispered against the windshield as Ethan's black sedan crept to a stop near the towering iron gates of Gale Mansion. Floodlights arced over the grand façade, illuminating the marble columns and gilded statues like trophies of conquest. He adjusted his cuffs, his lean frame disappearing into the shadows as he stepped out. Beside him, Clara DeVries hesitated, her fingers tightening around a modest clutch.

"Stay close," Ethan murmured, his voice low but firm. "Blend in. Pierce thrives in crowds like this."

Clara nodded, the movement tight, as if bracing herself against the weight of the night. Together, they approached the entrance, their polished calm a stark contrast to the undercurrent of tension crackling between them. Ethan flashed the forged invitation, and with a perfunctory glance, the guards waved them through.

Inside, the ballroom radiated opulence, a symphony of light and wealth. Chandeliers sparkled like fallen constellations, and the hum of conversation floated beneath the delicate strains of a live quartet. Clara, clutching a flute of champagne, stayed close as Ethan's sharp gaze swept the room.

"Are you sure he's here?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din.

Ethan didn't look at her. His eyes were locked on the man who commanded the center of the room like a general surveying his domain—Alexander Pierce. The silver-haired magnate exuded effortless charisma, a predator in bespoke armor.

"He never misses a chance to remind everyone he owns the room," Ethan replied, his voice a blade sheathed in calm.

Clara's grip tightened on her glass. "What's the plan?"

"Plans are overrated." Ethan's smirk was fleeting as he set his drink down and moved.

Pierce noticed him instantly. The faint smile that curled his lips was practiced, but his sharp eyes betrayed the flicker of calculation. Ethan closed the distance, his steps measured.

"Alexander Pierce," Ethan said, his voice carrying just enough weight to draw nearby attention.

Pierce turned, his expression one of mild amusement, though his posture stiffened. "Mr. Drake," he said smoothly, his voice a polished veneer. "I wasn't aware my guest list had expanded."

"Wouldn't miss it." Ethan tilted his head, his calm unbroken. "You're always hiding something in plain sight."

Pierce's smile sharpened. "Still chasing shadows, I see. But here? Among friends? It's unseemly."

The air between them grew taut, a silence heavy with unspoken threats. Before Ethan could press further, the mansion's alarms shattered the moment.

"Attention," a voice crackled over the speakers. "Unauthorized breach detected in the east wing."

A monitor flickered to life, displaying grainy footage of Ethan—clad in the same tailored jacket—breaking into a secure room. The crowd gasped, their whispers rising like a tide.

Pierce's smile returned, colder now. "It seems, Mr. Drake, you've outstayed your welcome."

Ethan's jaw tightened. Clara appeared at his side, her face pale but her voice steady. "We need to move. Now."

"This isn't over," Ethan said, his tone low, his gray eyes cutting through Pierce's mask.

Pierce raised a hand, summoning guards with a casual flick of his wrist. "Escort them out," he said, his voice dripping with mock courtesy. "Gently, if you can."

The ballroom erupted into chaos. Ethan grabbed Clara's arm, weaving through the panicked crowd as guards closed in.

"Do you have a way out?" Clara asked, her voice tight with urgency.

"Working on it." Ethan's voice was steady, but his steps quickened.

They burst into the rain-soaked night, the driveway slick with reflections of the mansion's golden lights. Security vehicles roared to life, their headlights piercing the storm.

"Get in," Ethan barked, yanking the sedan's door open. Clara barely slammed her door shut before the engine growled to life, tires spinning as they skidded toward the side gate.

"We're blocked!" Clara shouted, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror as headlights bore down on them.

Ethan's jaw clenched. "Not for long."

The sedan surged forward, smashing through the gate in a shower of splinters. Behind them, security vehicles struggled to keep pace, their beams slicing through the rain.

Inside the car, Clara gripped the door handle, her breath shallow. "Where do we go now?"

Ethan's gaze stayed fixed on the road, his voice unyielding. "Anywhere but here."

The rain lashed against the windshield as the mansion's lights faded into the distance. In the rearview mirror, the fractured gate and pursuing cars became a blur, swallowed by the storm.

Ethan's hands tightened on the wheel, his voice breaking the charged silence. "They wanted to frame me." His tone darkened, a promise carved into steel. "Now they'll see what happens when I fight back."