Delaney whispered, “What the hell?”
The woman reached the middle of the staircase.
Mavis stood halfway out of her chair.
Brielle’s champagne glass slipped from her fingers and struck the carpet.
Grant stopped breathing.
Because the chairwoman of Bellamy Holdings—
the billionaire whose money had repeatedly rescued him—
the woman he had been desperate to impress—
was his wife.
Seraphina descended the final step.
Hundreds of people stood.
Grant did not.
He could not.
The emcee smiled.
“Ms.
Seraphina Bellamy, chairwoman of Bellamy Holdings.”
The name hit Grant harder than any accusation could have.
Bellamy.
Not Holloway.
Bellamy.
Seraphina walked directly past his table.
She did not look at him.
Julian pulled out her chair onstage.
Grant’s hand shook.
“Bellamy?”
Delaney whispered.
Grant finally found his voice.
“No.”
Seraphina reached the microphone.
“Good evening.”
The room settled.
“I apologize for remaining absent from public events for so long.
