Chapter 490
The Donovan Group hosted an extravagant gala in the grand ballroom of the St. Regis Hotel to celebrate their remarkable resurgence.
Why such fanfare for the Donovan Group's revival? Everyone knew the company had been a Stoslo institution for six decades. But after the previous chairman declared bankruptcy during the economic downturn, no one dared touch the failing empire.
That changed when Wesley Donovan stepped in. After acquiring majority shares and assuming the chairman role, he single-handedly resurrected the corporate giant. When pressed by journalists about his motivation, Wesley simply mentioned working there during university summers. The Donovan Group held sentimental value, he claimed, making its potential demise unacceptable.
Whether truth or clever PR, the results spoke for themselves. Under Wesley's leadership, Donovan Group's market value skyrocketed 70% within a year, securing its position as the nation's second-largest corporation. All eyes were now on this phoenix rising from ashes.
Wesley extended invitations to his extensive network across industries. When Evelyn Vanderbilt received Mr. Henry's gilt-edged invitation on her phone, she knew she'd be attending as his representative.
The cavernous ballroom buzzed with elite guests mingling before the formal proceedings. Between discussions of market trends and corporate gossip, one topic dominated conversations - the enigmatic daughter of the infamous Mr. Henry.
Though Mr. Henry operated in Morwich's underworld, his influence rivaled royalty. His recent foray into legitimate business had amassed staggering wealth. And now, whispers circulated about his newly adopted heir.
"Imagine marrying into that fortune," one socialite murmured behind her champagne flute.
"Don't waste your fantasies," her companion scoffed. "With his status, she'll undoubtedly wed nobility. Though it's curious she declined Prince Reginald's invitation while in Stoslo..."
Their gossip halted abruptly when the massive oak doors swung open. All heads turned toward the late arrival.
A striking figure dominated the entrance. The woman's burgundy pantsuit clung to her curves, the plunging neckline of her chiffon blouse showcasing a blood-red ruby pendant. Cropped trousers revealed slender ankles, while stiletto heels added commanding height.
Her raven hair swept into a sleek ponytail, the upper half of her face obscured by an ornate gold mask that caught the chandelier's glow.
Four attendants trailed behind - three Morwich natives easily recognized, and the fourth, a sharp-featured woman with cropped hair. The crowd immediately identified her as Sadie, Mr. Henry's infamous right hand.
Which meant...
This masked vision must be Alice.
Even through the disguise, her aristocratic bearing was unmistakable.
Evelyn moved with panther-like grace across the marble floor, her heels clicking a steady rhythm. Light refracted off her mask, scattering diamond-like sparks through the room.
Wesley paused mid-conversation, his wine glass frozen halfway to his lips as he registered her approach.
Without hesitation, Evelyn extended a gloved hand. "Mr. Donovan, what a pleasure. I'm Alice."
Wesley's lips curved into a practiced smile. Passing his drink to an aide, he grasped her hand firmly. "Ms. Alice, your reputation precedes you. Has Mr. Henry sent you as his emissary?"
"Indeed." Evelyn's voice carried the perfect blend of warmth and detachment. "My father requested I attend in his stead and deliver his personal congratulations." From Sadie, she accepted an ornate box. "A small token of his esteem."
The crowd leaned in collectively, breath held, as Wesley lifted the lid. Inside lay something that made even the unflappable CEO's eyes widen fractionally. The game, Evelyn knew, had just begun.