THE CHAMPAGNE ON THE FLOOR

CHAPTER 1 — THE CHAMPAGNE ON THE FLOOR

Victoria didn’t throw the champagne at Sophia.

She aimed lower.

That was what made it worse.

The glass tilted in her hand, slow and deliberate, and a bright splash of champagne hit the marble floor inches from Noah’s shoes.

The little boy flinched like someone had struck him.

He grabbed his mother’s dress with both hands and buried his face against her hip, shaking so hard Sophia felt it through the fabric.

Around them, the rooftop gala froze.

The city glittered beyond the glass railing. Warm string lights hung over round cocktail tables dressed in white. Candles flickered beside champagne flutes. Wealthy guests in tuxedos and evening gowns stood in polished silence, the kind that always came right after cruelty when no one wanted to admit they had witnessed it.

Victoria Vale stood in front of Sophia in a metallic champagne-gold gown, diamond necklace shining at her throat, black hair pinned tight enough to make her face look carved.

She did not look drunk.

She did not look sorry.

She looked satisfied.

“Take him and disappear from here,” Victoria said. “I don’t care. It’s over for you.”

Sophia’s first instinct was to kneel.

To check Noah’s shoes.

To whisper, It’s okay, baby, even though it was not okay and he was old enough to know the difference.

Instead, she lifted him into her arms.

He clung to her neck, little white shirt damp at the collar from tears, dark vest wrinkled under her hand. His breathing came in tiny broken pulls.

Sophia kept one palm against the back of his head.

Her own makeup was smudged beneath her eyes. Her navy strapless dress was creased from the long evening of being ignored, insulted, and finally cornered in front of people who liked drama as long as it stayed beneath them.

Victoria leaned closer.

“You really thought bringing that child here would make my son choose you?”

Sophia looked up.

Something in her face had changed.

The fear was gone.

Not healed.

Gone cold.

“You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

A few guests shifted.

Behind Victoria, a bald man in a black tuxedo stiffened. Martin Hale, chairman of Vale Luxury Retail, had been watching all night with the frozen expression of a man who knew too much and hoped nobody asked him anything.

Victoria laughed softly.

“Oh, sweetheart. I made one mistake. I let you into this family.”

“No,” Sophia said. “You let yourself forget who built the part of it you still spend from.”

Victoria’s smile thinned.

Sophia reached into her clutch with one hand, Noah balanced against her other side. Her fingers were steady now.

She took out her phone.

Victoria glanced at it and rolled her eyes.

“Calling security?”

Sophia did not look at her.

She pressed one contact.

The line answered on the first ring.

“Ms. Laurent?”

Sophia’s voice was quiet enough that the guests leaned in to hear it.

“Shut down every store within five minutes,” she said. “Freeze all executive access tied to Victoria Vale. Flag every card, every vendor portal, every private account.”

Victoria’s expression shifted.

Barely.

Then faster.

“What?”

Sophia’s eyes stayed on her.

“And suspend the gala account,” she added. “Effective now.”

The man on the phone answered clearly enough for the closest guests to hear.

“Yes, ma’am. Our company is already moving.”

The rooftop went silent.

Victoria stared at Sophia like she had suddenly started speaking a language rich people were not supposed to need translated.

Martin Hale stepped forward.

“Sophia,” he said carefully, “perhaps we should speak privately.”