Chapter 8 - Shifting Tides
The aftermath was swift and merciless. High society was a pack of wolves, and they turned on their wounded leader without hesitation. The stern-faced man who had accused Maya just moments before stepped away from Eleanor as if she were carrying a plague.
"Get up, Eleanor," he hissed, refusing to offer her a hand. "You've humiliated yourself. And you've humiliated the Foundation."
The head of security, realizing the gravity of the situation, swiftly altered his course. He bypassed Maya entirely and approached Eleanor, who was still trembling on the floor. "Mrs. Vance," he said, his tone devoid of its previous deference. "We're going to need you to come with us to the security office. The police are already on their way regarding the stolen auction item."
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Two guards assisted the disgraced woman to her feet. Eleanor couldn't meet anyone's gaze. As she was escorted out of the grand atrium, the crowd parted for her once more—not out of respect, but out of absolute disdain.
Maya stood quietly, watching the doors close behind them. She took a slow sip of her sparkling water. The lilac satin of her dress caught the returning golden light of the chandeliers. The storm had passed, and the air in the room felt distinctly lighter.
