Chapter 5 - The Gala of Ghosts
The annual Boston Business Leadership Gala was held in the grand ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton, overlooking the Public Garden.
It was the premier event of the season—a sea of tuxedos, diamond necklaces, champagne flutes, and power brokers.
Arthur Vance stood near the center of the ballroom, holding a glass of scotch, holding court among three major newspaper reporters and two city council members.
"Matthew Knight’s tragedy is a lesson to us all," Arthur was saying, adopting a look of profound, artificial sorrow. "A brilliant mind, cut down in his prime. But Knight Development must move forward. The board requires strong, active leadership to face the challenges of the new decade."
"Is that why you're voting to remove him on Friday, Arthur?" a reporter asked, raising her notebook.
"It is a painful necessity," Arthur lied smoothly. "Matthew simply cannot handle the physical demands of running a global corporation anymore. He hasn't left his mansion in three years. He is a recluse, detached from reality."
The heavy oak doors at the back of the ballroom suddenly swung open.
The hum of two hundred voices instantly died. The orchestra stopped playing mid-measure.
A sleek, state-of-the-art matte-black electric wheelchair rolled smoothly through the doorway.
Matthew Knight sat in the chair, dressed in a flawless, custom-tailored Tom Ford tuxedo, his dark hair expertly styled, his jaw clean-shaven, his posture erect and commanding.
Beside him walked Natalie Zeller.
She wore a striking, floor-length dark emerald silk gown that Matthew had ordered for her from Paris three days earlier. Her dark hair was styled in an elegant updo, exposing the graceful line of her neck. She walked with her head held high, radiating quiet, effortless elegance, her hand resting gently on the back of Matthew’s chair.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Matthew drove his wheelchair into the center of the ballroom.
Arthur Vance’s glass of scotch trembled in his hand. His face turned the color of chalk. "M-Matthew?"
Matthew stopped his chair five feet away from Arthur. He looked up at his vice-chairman, his sharp blue eyes cutting through Arthur like a broadsword.
"Good evening, Arthur," Matthew’s deep, resonant voice carried easily across the silent room. "I heard you were telling everyone that I was detached from reality."
Arthur swallowed hard, trying frantically to regain his composure. "Matthew! What a... what an unexpected surprise! We didn't think you attended social functions anymore."
"I don't," Matthew said smoothly, taking a flute of champagne from a waiter’s tray and holding it effortlessly. "But I heard my board was growing concerned about my health. So I decided to come down here tonight to reassure you all personally."
Matthew turned his chair slowly, addressing the circle of reporters and investors surrounding them.
"Next Friday," Matthew announced, his voice filled with absolute power, "Knight Development will announce the launch of our new thirty-acre affordable housing and community education project in South Boston—funded entirely by my personal capital. And as for the board vote regarding my executive capacity..."
Matthew turned his cold, piercing gaze back to Arthur Vance, whose forehead was now dripping with cold sweat.
"...I look forward to seeing you all in the boardroom at nine o'clock sharp. Don't be late, Arthur. I fire people who are late."
May you like
The room erupted into hushed, excited whispers.
Matthew signaled to Natalie. She smiled down at him, her dark eyes shining with immense pride, and walked beside him as they turned and glided out of the ballroom, leaving Arthur Vance standing frozen in the middle of his ruined reputation.
