Chapter 122

Serena's POV

I took a step back, withdrawing my arm from his grasp. "Let go of me," I repeated, my voice carrying an edge of steel beneath its quiet surface.

James Chapman's face darkened with anger. "Still playing the untouchable princess, aren't you?" He matched my retreat with an aggressive step forward.

I maintained my composure, though my lip curled slightly. "Ah yes, now I recall. One of those... unmemorable introductions."

"Unmemorable?" His voice rose, drawing curious glances from nearby guests. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Everyone at this Harrington International anniversary gala is here because they matter in Manhattan."

I let my gaze sweep the opulent ballroom, noting with sudden clarity the conspicuous absence of both the Sinclair and Whitmore families. A warmth bloomed in my chest as I realized the likely architect of those particular omissions. Lucas's subtle protectiveness never ceased to surprise me.

"And you think that makes you important?" I asked with elegant disdain. "That you managed to secure an invitation?"

James's face flushed an ugly red. "Listen carefully, Serena. I'm a senior executive at Harrington International. My position here is crucial. Your little StarRiver Group? If you want any chance of establishing yourself in Manhattan, you'd better learn to show proper respect."

A cold smile touched my lips. "Respect? Is that what this display is about? You must be terribly insecure in your position if you need to announce it so... desperately."

"You-" He stepped forward again, but I held my ground.

"Tell me, Mr. Chapman," I continued, my voice dripping with mock curiosity, "do you always need to remind people of your importance? Or is it just around those who've forgotten meeting you?"

The muscle in his jaw twitched. Several nearby conversations had died down as people pretended not to watch our exchange.

James's expression shifted into what he probably thought was a benevolent smile. "You know, Serena, given our distant family connection, I'm willing to be generous here." He spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture that made me want to laugh, especially since I'd spotted Miles hovering quietly in the background. "With the right attitude and proper respect, I could ensure your path in Manhattan remains... smooth."

I maintained my composed smile, watching his increasingly smug face. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Chapman. And what exactly makes you think I need your... assistance?"

"Let's be realistic," he leaned in, lowering his voice to what he must have imagined was an intimate tone. "Your current success is temporary. Once the spotlight fades, people will remember your past. But I'm willing to overlook all that - you should consider yourself fortunate."

My smile didn't waver. "And what past would that be, Mr. Chapman? Please, enlighten me."

His confidence grew with what he mistook for vulnerability in my question. "Your position at StarRiver, your presence here tonight - it's all quite precarious, isn't it? One word from someone in my position at Harrington International..."

"James." Miles's cool voice cut through the air like a blade. I watched with carefully concealed amusement as James's spine stiffened in recognition.

"Mr. Reed!" James spun around, his entire demeanor transforming instantly from threatening to fawning. "I was just having a friendly chat with Ms. Sinclair about-"

"About your position at Harrington International?" Miles's expression remained perfectly neutral. "That's actually quite timely. I've been meaning to inform you - your services will no longer be required, effective immediately."

The color drained from James's face. "But... but I don't understand. My record-"

"Has been under review for some time," Miles finished smoothly. "Ms. Sinclair isn't someone you can afford to threaten, James. Though I suppose that's no longer a concern for you."

"This is- there must be some mistake," James stammered, looking frantically between Miles and me. "I can explain-"

"Your severance package will be processed by HR," Miles continued as if James hadn't spoken. "I suggest you make your exit from the gala discreet. We wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?"

As James slunk away, his earlier bravado completely deflated, Miles turned to me with a slight nod.

I returned his nod with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Miles. For everything."

"Simply maintaining the company's standards, Ms. Sinclair," he replied professionally, though I caught the hint of amusement in his eyes.

A movement on the second floor caught my eye. Through the ornate balustrade, I glimpsed Lucas watching the scene below, a slight smile playing at his lips. Before I could process what that meant, a woman beside him turned to look at me. Though her gaze wasn't hostile, something about it made my instincts prickle. She said something to Lucas before they both disappeared from view.

The grand chandelier's light shifted, drawing attention to the panoramic elevator as it descended. Howard Harrington made his entrance, his wheelchair pushed by Lucas. My heart clenched, remembering Lucas's words on that beach in the Bahamas about his father's stroke and the loss that had paralyzed him. The weight of family tragedy was visible in the careful way Lucas guided the chair, in the protective stance he maintained.

I watched as Lucas's aunt Clara Harrington and her husband Grant Yates took their places near Howard. Jace Gillard stood nearby, completing the family tableau. The absence of Milo and Stella was notable - though unsurprising for such a late event.

"There you are!" Eleanor's voice carried from the second floor. I looked up to find her leaning against the railing, champagne glass raised in greeting. Our eyes met in silent understanding - the kind only true friendship could forge.

"Don't miss my brother's moment, darling," she called down, her eyes sparkling with significance. "You'll want to watch this."

The lights began to dim, drawing everyone's attention to the stage.