Victoria could have apologized.

Amara might have accepted it.

The merger could have continued.

The gala could have returned to champagne and polite conversations.

But Victoria's pride would not allow it.

She had embarrassed herself by questioning Amara's invitation.

Now she needed to regain control.

So she did something dangerous.

She turned humiliation into entertainment.

She raised her champagne glass.

"Everyone!"

The ballroom quieted.

Victoria smiled.

"Apparently, we have an important guest."

Several people looked toward Amara.

Victoria gestured dramatically.

"Let's welcome Ms. Johnson."

A few people applauded uncertainly.

Amara did not react.

Victoria continued.

"Though I suppose I should apologize."

The room waited.

Victoria walked closer.

"I didn't realize we were supposed to dress for a board meeting."

Laughter.

Amara looked down at her gown.

Victoria pointed.

"Orange?"

A woman near the table laughed.

Victoria smiled.

"Interesting choice."

Amara remained silent.

Victoria's voice grew louder.

"Tell me, Amara, did you come straight from the office?"

"No."

"From a charity event?"

"No."

"Then why are you dressed like that?"

Amara looked at her.

"Because I wanted to."

The answer was so simple that it disrupted the rhythm of the performance.

Victoria frowned.

Then smiled again.

"Fair enough."

She took another sip.

"But honestly, if you're going to be at a billionaire's gala, shouldn't you at least try to look like one?"

The room grew quiet.

A hedge fund manager looked at his wife.

She shook her head slightly.

Enough.

But Victoria continued.

"You have to admit, people were confused."

Amara's voice remained calm.

"People often see what they expect to see."

Victoria laughed.

"That's philosophical."

"It's practical."

"Whatever you say."

The young journalist, Lena, had stopped taking notes.

She was now recording continuously.

This was no longer gossip.

It was a story.

A story about class.

Race.

Power.

Humiliation.

And the strange confidence of someone who believed wealth gave her permission to judge everyone else.

Victoria walked around Amara's table.

She stopped behind her.

"Maybe next year."

She looked at Amara's gown.

"Something red?"

A few people laughed.

"Something shorter?"

More laughter.

"Something that actually gets attention?"

Amara slowly turned.

"Victoria."

It was the first time she had said her name.

Victoria stopped.

"You know my name."

"Everyone knows your name."

"Then you know who my family is."

"Yes."

"And you know what we're building."

"Yes."

Victoria smiled.

"Then you should be careful."

Amara looked at her.

"About what?"

"About embarrassing yourself."

Amara's eyes remained steady.

"I think you're doing a good job of that without my help."

The room erupted in surprised laughter.

Victoria's face reddened.

Lena nearly smiled.

Kenji leaned back.

"Finally," he whispered.

Victoria's friends stared at each other.

Victoria stepped closer.

"Excuse me?"

Amara didn't repeat herself.

Victoria looked around.

The room was no longer entirely on her side.

She could feel it.

The laughter had changed.

It wasn't laughter with her anymore.

It was laughter at the tension.

She needed to regain control.

Then her eyes landed on the glass in her hand.

An idea came.

A terrible one.

She walked toward Amara.

"You're right."

Amara watched her.

"About what?"

Victoria smiled.

"I've been rude."

She lifted her glass.

"Let me make it up to you."

Amara didn't move.

Victoria extended her glass toward Amara's gown.

"Cheers?"

Amara's expression hardened slightly.

"Don't."

Victoria tilted her head.

"Don't what?"

"Do whatever you're thinking."

For the first time, Victoria hesitated.

She looked at the room.

People were watching.

She could stop.

Instead, she smiled.

"Relax."

Her wrist moved.

The wine spilled.

A dark red stream cascaded across Amara's orange satin gown.

The room gasped.

The glass in Victoria's hand remained half full.

It had not slipped.

It had not fallen.

The movement had been deliberate.

The wine spread across Amara's lap.

The orange fabric darkened.

Amara looked down.

Silence.

Victoria placed one hand against her chest.

"Oh."

Nobody believed her.

"Oh my God."

Lena whispered:

"She did that on purpose."

Her camera was still recording.

Victoria looked at Amara.

"I'm so sorry."

The apology sounded fake.

"Maybe red looks better on you."

No one laughed.

A waiter froze.

A server stopped mid-step.

The jazz quartet continued for several seconds before the musicians realized something had happened.

Then the music stopped.

Amara slowly picked up her napkin.

She placed it over the stain.

Her hands were steady.

Victoria smiled nervously.

"Are you okay?"

Amara looked at her.

"Yes."

"Good."

Victoria turned toward the room.

"Accidents happen."

Nobody answered.

Kenji looked at his wife.

"This is over."

"What do you mean?"

"Victoria has crossed the line."

The host, Charles Hail, was still seated at the head table.

He had watched everything.

His face had become pale.

He knew Amara.

He knew exactly who she was.

He had personally negotiated the first phase of the merger with her.

He had signed documents bearing her signature.

He knew the value of her company.

He knew the importance of the deal.

But he did not yet understand what she was going to do.

Victoria, however, believed she had won.

She pointed toward Amara.

"Security."

Two guards looked at each other.

Victoria raised her voice.

"Security!"

One guard approached.

"Ma'am?"

"Escort her out."

The guard looked confused.

"Ms. Johnson?"

Victoria frowned.

"Yes."

"She is a guest."

"I know."

"She's on the guest list."

"I know."

"Then—"

Victoria snapped:

"She has caused a scene."

Amara looked up.

"I didn't cause anything."

Victoria laughed.

"You've been sitting here all night making everyone uncomfortable."

Amara said nothing.

Victoria turned to the guards.

"Remove her."

The guards hesitated.

The room was completely silent.

The journalist continued recording.

Kenji leaned toward the host.

"You need to stop this."

Charles finally stood.

But before he could speak, Amara reached into her clutch.

She took out her phone.

Everyone watched.

Victoria laughed.

"What are you doing?"

Amara unlocked the phone.

"Making a phone call."

Victoria smiled.

"Calling your lawyer?"

"No."

"Your assistant?"

"No."

"Security?"

Amara looked directly at her.

"No."

Then she made the call.

 Protocol Seven

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then someone answered.

"Ms. Johnson."

Amara spoke quietly.

"Initiate Protocol Seven."