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GENEVIEVE
The crowd of the rich and famous stands in the civic centre, talking amongst themselves as they wait for the moment I take the stage. None of them really care what I have to say, not truly. They have all dropped massive amounts of money, money that will go towards a good cause, but not a single one of them actually cares about the charity. Each one of them is here for one reason and one reason only—their reputation.
Funnily enough, though, many of these people do despicable things for their money, like exploiting the poor, but they don’t want anyone to actually know how terrible they are. It’s all about good press and what the world sees. They are all sharks swimming in bloody water, but I need their money. If they are willing to part with it for good PR and competitive philanthropy, then I’ll take what I can get.
“Please welcome the woman of the evening, Ms. Genevieve Dalton!” the host announces. There’s a smattering of insincere applause at the announcement. Only the rich can invoke a tone with their clapping.
Carefully stepping out onto stage in heels I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in anywhere but at an event, I smile pleasantly at the waiting crowd, holding the velvet box in my hands. There had been a vicious bidding war between many of the people in attendance, including the ever pleasant Charles Wentworth. I’m pleased that he didn’t win the auction, his bid being beaten by another man clearly trying to impress his date for the evening. Still, the sum is large enough to keep disgust from my mind. Such a large amount will feed so many children.
“Good evening,” I say into the mic, and the elite throng falls silent.
Some of them look at me like the infiltrator I am, old money looking down on new money. I’ve worked hard for where I am, but no matter how much money I make, I will always be beneath them in their eyes. Luckily for them, I don’t really care what they think of me. I’ve been called worse than anything their eyes can say.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming out to this charity event. Your generous donations are appreciated, and I’m pleased to announce that we’ve far exceeded our goals for the evening.” I pause as there’s another light smattering of applause. “As I’m sure many of you are aware, I didn’t always have the money I’ve been blessed with. Once upon a time, I was just another kid wondering where my next meal was coming from.” My gaze skims over the crowd, looking for Chaz to help ground me, but when I can’t find him, I steel my own spine.
“I’m not sure many of you know what it’s like to be hungry, wondering if you’d get to eat that day or if you’d have to beg for a piece of bread from another kid at school. Going to class with dirty clothing isn’t something any child should have to experience, and no child should starve—that’s what this event is about.” My practiced smile pulls at my lips. “With your donations this evening, you’ve ensured many children will have food in their bellies, the help they need to finish school, and the supplies they need to thrive. Because of you, there’s a child somewhere who can eat without fear of starvation.” Another round of applause, and someone whistles obnoxiously. My smile falters just a little when I fail to find Chaz in the crowd again.
Where is he? He’s missing my entire speech.
“Without further ado, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” I hold up the velvet box that has a pair of diamond earrings nestled inside. They are from the queen’s personal stash. Somehow, I convinced the Queen of England to donate a pair of antique earrings to our cause, and the rich had gone rabid at the opportunity to own them. “The winner of the Greville Teardrop Earrings, for nearly seven million pounds, is Mr. Daniel Grimaldi V.”
Cheers echo in the banquet room as the man in question pumps a meaty fist in the air at the proclamation, as if he didn’t just spend a fortune on a pair of earrings. His newest mistress smiles brightly for the cameras that snap to capture Grimaldi’s trip to the stage, where he greedily claims the velvet box from my hand. It takes everything in me not to wipe my hand on my dress after our fingers touch, though I desperately want to remove the clamminess from my fingers.
“Thank you again, everyone, for joining us,” I say into the mic before Grimaldi can take over. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Before I’m even off the stage, Grimaldi grabs the mic and hoots into it, talking about how pleased he is about winning the auction. There hadn’t been plans for him to speak, but the rich rarely care about etiquette when it comes to winning. Humorously enough, they are anal about any other sort of etiquette. They’ll happily sneer at you for using the wrong fork while cheating on their wives and husbands. Disgusting, really.
I shake hands with people I pass, not caring to stay and talk while I search for Chaz. I still can’t find him in the crowd, and I’m starting to worry. Had he gotten called away for an emergency? I can’t think of any other reason for him to miss my speech. He is always so supportive. It doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t be here for this.
“Genevieve, dear.” Mrs. Pruitt, another genuinely generous person in attendance, stops me. A filthy rich widow, Mrs. Pruitt only attends charity events she cares about, and mine has made it onto her list. Not only had she bid in the auctions, but she has gifted a large sum of money without return. She might be one of the only people I enjoy spending time with here. “You’ve done so well with this event. The man at the front said you raised almost twenty million! I knew you’d make this a success.”
Smiling graciously at her, I take the hand she offers. “I’m just happy we’ve raised so much for the kids. It means so much to me that so many gave generously.”
Mrs. Pruitt waves away my words with a laugh. “You know as well as I do that none of these people truly care.” She lowers her voice like she’s sharing a secret. “Between you and me, that makes it far easier to part them from their fortunes.”
With a true smile pulling at my lips, I wink. “That was precisely the plan.” I glance around again. “You haven’t happened upon Chaz, have you? I can’t find him anywhere.”
Mrs. Pruitt’s eyes glint, and I’m reminded that though she’s generous to charity, she still earned her own fortune on the backs of the poor long ago. I like her, but it wouldn’t be smart to forget what she is. “I think I saw him going through the door just over there.” She points towards a closed door off to the side with a wrinkled finger. “It was nice to see you again, dear. Do invite me to the next event, won’t you?” She turns away, off to brush shoulders with others like her.
Frowning at the closed door, I make my way through the crowd and stand in front of it. I don’t think there should be much behind it. We only rented the hall for the event. These rooms were meant for smaller parties and should be empty, save for a few stored items. Why would Chaz be in it? Perhaps he needed to take a call? That would make sense.
My instinct has me turning the knob quietly so as not to interrupt whatever call my fiancé is on. It doesn’t squeak or make a sound as I barely pull the door open and peer inside.
At first, I don’t see him. The room is dim and filled with stacks of chairs that went unused for the charity event. A soft moan draws my eyes to two shapes inside, the faint lighting giving me just enough to see them by. The crack of light from the door opening barely slips inside the room, and neither of them seem to realise the door opened at all.
Sarah Brown tilts her head back, her eyes closed in fake ecstasy. The bright red lipstick she’d been wearing is smeared across her cheek, something she’ll have to fix before she returns to the party. The rich don’t like things to be out of place. I don’t focus on her much. Instead, my eyes dip to the male currently kissing his way across the heirloom necklace at her throat—a necklace I now assume once belonged to the same collection I wear around my own throat. There’s no mistaking who the man is kissing her skin. After all, I picked out and purchased the suit he currently wears. Though I can’t see his tie, I know it matches my dress.
Quickly and softly pulling the door shut, so as not to disturb what’s clearly happening, I face the party around me. The noises are suddenly too loud, and the faces appear just as malicious as I know them to be.
“Ms. Dalton—”
“My apologies,” I murmur, interrupting the man attempting to shake my hand when I stumble away from the door. “I have to go.”
My eyes meet Mrs. Pruitt’s across the room, and I realise she knew precisely what I’d find behind the door. I can’t be angry with her, however, because she saved me from making a mistake. Even though I’d known something was off with Chaz’s charm, there’s still this feeling of horror that I’d fallen for his act. After everything I’ve seen, including seeing behind many of their masks, I should have known better. I should haveknown.
I’m out of the door and moving to the car waiting to take me back to my apartment. The driver jumps to attention when he sees me, not having expected me for at least another hour, but my job here is done. I’ve raised the money. My event coordinator will take care of closing the party, and the charity organiser will ensure that the money makes it where it’s supposed to and that each auction item is properly given to the winners. I just need to get away. I need to get out of this dress and heels. I need to wipe away the mask on my face. I need to sit on my sofa and figure out what I’m going to do about Chaz.
The car ride is quick, or perhaps it feels that way because I’m so lost in my thoughts, I barely notice anything but the opening of the car door and the driver offering his hand.
“Will there be anything else this evening, Ms. Dalton?”
