Chapter 6: The Gala
1295 Words
The dress was a problem.
Three designers came to the penthouse on Friday. They brought 20 dresses each. Silk. Beading. Colors that cost more than Amelia’s old rent.
“Mrs. Blackwood needs to look like she belongs,” the head designer said. “But not like she’s trying too hard.”
Amelia stood in her underwear while women pinned and pulled. She felt like a mannequin.
“This one,” she finally said, pointing to a simple dress. Deep emerald green. Sleeveless. Floor length. Elegant, but not flashy. “This one.”
Damian, who was on a call in the other room, walked in when he heard her voice. He stopped.
The dress fit perfectly. It brought out the green in her eyes. Her hair was down in soft waves. Minimal jewelry. Just the ring.
Damian hung up the call. “That one,” he said. “Done.”
The designers left. Amelia was alone with him.
“You look...” Damian trailed off. “You look like you should be on my arm.”
Amelia looked down. “I feel like I’m playing dress up.”
“You’re not,” Damian said. “You’re my wife. Own it.”
Saturday came too fast.
The gala was at the Port Harcourt Grand Hotel. “A Night For Children’s Hearts” - Blackwood Foundation’s biggest event of the year. 300 guests. CEOs. Politicians. Press.
And Victoria.
The car ride was silent. Damian in a black tux. Amelia in the green dress. The ring on her finger caught the light.
“You don’t have to talk to anyone,” Damian said. “Stick to me. Smile. That’s it.”
“What if she says something?” Amelia asked.
“Then I handle it,” Damian said. “Like always.”
The red carpet was chaos. Cameras. Lights.
“Mr. Blackwood! Who is she?”
“Is this the contract wife?”
“5 million dollars, is it true?”
Damian kept his hand on Amelia’s back. He didn’t answer. He just walked.
Inside, the ballroom was gold and crystal. Strings playing. Waiters with champagne.
Amelia felt like she couldn’t breathe.
And then she saw her.
Victoria.
Red dress. Slit to the thigh. Diamonds at her throat. On the arm of an older man with silver hair. Her father, Richard Ashford. One of Blackwood’s biggest investors.
Victoria saw them too. Her smile was too wide.
“Well, well,” Victoria said, walking over. “Look who showed up. The happy couple.”
“Victoria,” Damian said. Cold. “Richard.”
Richard nodded at Damian but looked at Amelia. “So this is the famous Mrs. Blackwood. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Amelia forced a smile. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Is it?” Victoria said. She turned to Amelia. “That dress is beautiful. Emerald. Damian’s favorite color. He used to buy me emerald earrings, remember babe?”
Damian didn’t react. “Don’t call me that.”
“Oh right,” Victoria said. “New wife now. How’s the 5 million treating you, Amelia? Paid your dad’s bills?”
People around them were listening now. Pretending not to.
Amelia’s cheeks burned. “Excuse me. I need the restroom.”
She walked away before she could cry.
She made it to the bathroom and locked the door. Breathed.
Survive. That’s all.
A knock. “Amelia?”
Damian.
“How did you know—”
“I know you,” he said through the door. “Come out. You don’t have to do this alone.”
She opened the door. Her eyes were red but dry.
“I hate her,” Amelia whispered.
“I know,” Damian said. “But you’re better than her. Come on. We have a speech to give.”
Back in the ballroom, the lights dimmed. Arthur was supposed to give the opening speech. But Arthur was in the hospital.
So Damian stepped on stage. Amelia beside him.
“Good evening,” Damian said into the mic. “My father couldn’t be here tonight. But he asked me to tell you why this foundation matters.”
He talked about sick kids. About hospitals. About giving back.
Then he paused. Looked at Amelia.
“And tonight is special for me,” he said. “Because 3 weeks ago, I met someone who reminded me what matters. Family. Health. Second chances. My wife, Amelia.”
All eyes turned to her.
Amelia’s heart pounded. She wasn’t supposed to talk.
But she stepped to the mic.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice shook. “I’m not a CEO. I’m not from a big family. Three weeks ago I was waitressing to pay my dad’s hospital bills.”
Gasps.
“But Mr. Blackwood... Damian... gave me a chance. Not just for me. For my dad. For the baby we’re expecting.” She put a hand on her stomach, barely there. “So when you donate tonight, know that you’re giving families like mine a second chance too. Thank you.”
Silence. Then applause. Real applause.
Damian looked at her like he’d never seen her before.
Victoria was clapping too. Slowly. Her smile was gone.
After the speech, donations poured in. 2 million in 20 minutes.
But Victoria wasn’t done.
Later, by the bar, she cornered Amelia. Alone.
“Very touching speech,” Victoria said. “Too bad no one believes it.”
“I’m not doing this for you to believe me,” Amelia said.
“You think you’ve won,” Victoria said. “Because you have a ring and a baby. But contracts end, Amelia. And when they do, Damian goes back to people like me. People who fit.”
“Then why are you so scared of me?” Amelia asked.
Victoria’s mask slipped. “Because you’re not like the others. You don’t beg. You don’t chase. And he likes that.”
Before Amelia could answer, Damian was there.
“Step away from my wife,” he said.
Victoria smiled. “Just having girl talk.” She walked away, but not before whispering to Amelia: “Saturday isn’t over.”
The night ended with photos. Damian and Amelia. Cutting the cake. Holding hands.
The photos hit i********: in 10 minutes.
#MrAndMrsBlackwood #BlackwoodGala
Comments were split. Half called her a gold digger. Half called her brave.
In the car home, Amelia was exhausted.
“You did good,” Damian said. “Better than good.”
“I wanted to slap her,” Amelia admitted.
Damian laughed. A real laugh. “I wanted to too.”
They got home at 1AM. The house was quiet.
Amelia went to her room across the hall. She took off the dress and the heels. Her feet hurt.
There was a knock.
Damian. Holding a box.
“Open it,” he said.
Inside was a pair of flats. Emerald green. Designer.
“For the next time we have to run from reporters,” he said, almost shy. “Or from Victoria.”
Amelia looked up at him. “Why are you being nice to me?”
Damian was quiet. “Because you didn’t run tonight. You stood there. You spoke. You didn’t let her break you.” He paused. “And because... I don’t hate coming home to you.”
He left before she could answer.
Amelia sat on the bed, holding the shoes.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
[Nice speech. But wait till my father pulls his shares Monday. Let’s see how brave you are then. - V]
Amelia deleted the message.
She looked at the shoes. At the ring.
Saturday was over.
But Monday was coming.
“End of Chapter 6 — Board meeting Monday. Will Richard pull his investment and crash Blackwood stock?”
- Writer
