The night of the gala finally arrived in full swing. By 7:00 PM, the front driveway was completely jammed with limousines and sports cars. Just as predicted, entitled guests began dumping their luxury sedans right underneath the glowing red emergency signs.
Trent Sterling pulled his silver Mercedes right up to the double doors, tossing his key fob toward an overwhelmed young valet. “Keep it nearby, kid. I have an early broadcast tomorrow, and I’m pulling out early,” he barked before strutting straight inside.
Luis stood near the main glass doors, dressed in a crisp tuxedo, holding a glass of sparkling water. He checked his wrist watch, waited until six high-end sports cars were packed bumper-to-bumper in the lane, pulled out his phone, and sent Denise a single text: The trap is full. Move in.