Chapter 10 - The Ballroom Above
Upstairs, the glittering chandeliers of the Grand Ballroom illuminated a scene of breathtaking, reckless opulence. Hundreds of guests in silk gowns and tailored tuxedos mingled effortlessly, drinking vintage champagne and discussing stock portfolios, entirely oblivious to the catastrophic storm brewing beneath their feet.
Arthur Vance stood near the dais, holding a crystal flute of sparkling wine, accepting the lavish compliments of the state senator standing beside him. His silver hair was immaculate, his smile practiced and utterly devoid of warmth. Yet beneath his calm exterior, a subtle twitch near his left eye betrayed a mounting anxiety. He had searched the pocket where the gold locket rested twice within the last ten minutes, finding only a hollow shell. Something was wrong. The math of his grand deception was starting to unravel.
As Arthur excused himself from the senator’s conversation, his eyes scanned the perimeter of the room, searching for the security guards he had dispatched to the cellar. None of them had returned.
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Before he could signal his chief of security, the ambient noise of the ballroom was abruptly cut short.
The room's massive surround-sound speakers—normally reserved for soft string quartets—let out a sharp, ear-piercing hiss of static. Every conversation died instantly. Heads whipped around in unison toward the central stage, where the live band had stopped playing in sheer confusion.
