Chapter 12: The Gala Trap

"Say that again," Gregory said, his voice flat, controlled in the way that meant he was anything but calm.

Amelia stood in the middle of his office, her phone still warm in her hand from the call with Ryan. "Damian Cross met with three of our smaller investors yesterday. He's doing the same thing to Kingsley Enterprises right now."

Gregory sat down slowly, like his legs had stopped trusting him. "How did Ryan find out before we did?"

"His CFO caught it. Contracts collapsing on his end too." Amelia crossed her arms, trying to steady the tremor building in her chest. "Gregory, this isn't Victor anymore. Victor doesn't have the reach to touch Kingsley Enterprises. Someone else brought Cross into this."

"Victor brought him in," Gregory said. "It's the only explanation. Victor loses everything in that boardroom, and two days later, one of the most ruthless men in this city starts circling both companies at once." He rubbed his temple. "He didn't just plan revenge against you. He planned to take down everyone connected to you."

Amelia felt the weight of that settle into her stomach. "Including Ryan."

"Including Ryan," Gregory agreed. "Which means we're not only fighting for Whitmore Global anymore. We're fighting a war on two fronts, and neither of us fully understands the second one yet."

Amelia's phone buzzed again. A text this time, not from Ryan. From an unknown number, followed quickly by a name that made her stomach twist.

*Selene Carter.*

She opened the message, her eyes narrowing as she read it.

*I don't think Whitmore Global received an invitation to the Kingsley Foundation gala this year. Strange, considering how close you and Ryan have become. Perhaps next year.*

Amelia stared at the screen, her jaw tightening. "She's blocking me from the gala."

Gregory looked up. "Who?"

"Selene Carter." Amelia set the phone down on his desk, harder than she meant to. "Ryan's seeing her again. Or trying to. And apparently she's decided I'm a problem worth removing before I become a bigger one."

"Does it matter?" Gregory asked carefully. "You don't need Kingsley's gala to run this company."

"It's not about the gala." Amelia paced toward the window, her reflection faint against the glass. "It's about who else will be there. Half the investors we need to convince before the ownership hearing. Cross will be there too, parading around like he already owns half the city. If I'm not in that room, Victor and Cross get to control the story without anyone hearing mine."

Gregory considered this, his fingers tapping slowly against the desk. "Then we find another way in."

"There isn't another way. It's an invitation only, and apparently mine just disappeared."

A knock interrupted them. Lucas Bennett stepped inside, his expression unusually serious for a man who typically wore confidence like a second skin.

"I heard about Cross," he said. "It's already spreading through the business circles. People are asking questions about Whitmore Global's stability."

"Of course they are," Amelia muttered.

Lucas glanced between her and Gregory. "There's something else. My firm handles legal work for several gala sponsors. I can get you a seat at that dinner. Not as Ryan's guest. As your own."

Amelia turned to him, surprised. "How?"

"One of the corporate sponsors owes me a favor. It won't be comfortable, walking in without an official invitation from the Kingsley family, but you'll be there. And that's what matters."

Gregory's eyes moved between them, calculating. "It's risky. If Selene finds out you forced your way in, she'll use it against you."

"Let her." Amelia's voice hardened. "I'm done waiting for permission to exist in rooms that decide my future."

Lucas smiled slightly, though the tension in his shoulders didn't fully ease. "I'll make the arrangements tonight."

He left, and Gregory studied Amelia for a long moment after the door closed. "You're walking into a room full of people who want you gone. Cross wants your company. Selene wants you erased. And Ryan—"

"Ryan isn't the problem right now," Amelia said quickly.

"Isn't he?" Gregory's voice stayed even, but his eyes held hers. "You called him for information. He called you the moment he found out about Cross. That's not nothing, Amelia."

She didn't answer right away. Her mind flickered back to the café, to his voice through the phone, steady and worried in a way she hadn't heard from him in years.

"It doesn't change what he did," she said finally.

"No," Gregory agreed. "But it might change what happens next."

Her phone buzzed one more time. Ryan again.

*Selene is planning something for the gala. Be careful.*

Amelia stared at the message, her chest tightening. He already knew. Which meant either he'd guessed, or Selene had made her intentions obvious enough that even Ryan couldn't miss them.

She typed back quickly. *I'm already handling it.*

The reply came faster than she expected.

*I'm not asking you to handle it alone. I'm telling you so you're prepared.*

Amelia read the words twice, unsure whether to feel comforted or unsettled by how easily he'd slipped back into looking out for her.

Gregory watched her expression shift. "What is it?"

"Ryan knows about Selene's plan," Amelia said slowly. "Which means either he's closer to her than he's told me, or he's watching her more carefully than she realizes."

Gregory's expression darkened. "Or both."

Amelia looked back down at her phone, at Ryan's name still glowing on the screen, and felt the ground beneath her shift once again. The gala was three weeks away. Victor was still out there. Cross was circling. And now Selene had drawn a line meant to keep her out.

Whatever happened next, one thing had become clear.

She wasn't the only one preparing for war.