Chapter 10 - The Queen of Wall Street
-10-
The grand auditorium of the Rossi Global headquarters in downtown Manhattan was packed to absolute capacity. Hundreds of journalists, financial analysts, and television camera crews crammed into the tiered seating, their lenses flashing blindingly toward the elevated mahogany press stage where a row of empty leather chairs awaited the executive board.
Backstage in the private holding room, I stood in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting the lapels of a sharp, tailored white pantsuit Nico’s team had rushed to deliver that morning. My long blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek, flawless ponytail, my makeup minimal but striking. Looking at my reflection, I barely recognized the frightened girl who had stood frozen in her apartment hallway just three days ago watching her fiancé and sister betray her.
The door opened behind me, and Nico stepped in. He wore a charcoal-gray bespoke suit with a subtle silver silk tie, looking the absolute picture of Wall Street royalty. He stopped behind me, resting his hands gently on my shoulders, his dark eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
“Ready?” he asked softly.
“Ready,” I replied, turning around to face him.
“Remember,” Nico smiled faintly, “when they ask questions, you don't answer to them. You answer to yourself. You aren't a victim in this story, Luna. You’re the author.”
A buzzer sounded backstage—the five-minute warning before live broadcast.
We walked out from the wings onto the bright, floodlit stage. The moment Nico appeared, a deafening wave of camera shutters and shouted reporter questions erupted across the auditorium like rolling thunder.
“Mr. Rossi! Is it true you’re ousting Valentina from the board?”
“Mr. Rossi, who is the woman standing beside you?”
“Is this a hostile corporate takeover or a family feud?”
Nico raised his hand once, and absolute silence fell across the room with terrifying speed. He stepped up to the central microphone, his posture towering and immovable.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Nico’s deep, resonant voice filled the auditorium. “Let’s address the elephant in the room. Yes, Rossi Global is undergoing a restructuring. Ineffective leadership, institutional corruption, and ethical bankruptcy at the executive level have been systematically removed as of this morning.”
He paused, turning his head slightly toward me, extending his hand. I stepped forward to the secondary microphone beside him.
“Furthermore,” Nico continued, his gaze sweeping across the stunned sea of journalists, “allow me to introduce Miss Luna Vance. Effective today, Miss Vance will assume the role of Executive Director of the newly established Rossi-Vance Philanthropic Trust, backed by a fifty-million-dollar endowment dedicated to reforming healthcare equity and corporate accountability.”
The auditorium exploded. Shouted questions overlapped into a wall of pure noise as flashbulbs blinded us from every angle.
“Miss Vance! Are you related to the Vance Capital family?”
“Is this appointment a personal favor from Mr. Rossi?”
“Miss Vance, what is your response to allegations that you orchestrated this corporate coup from behind the scenes?”
I didn't flinch. I stepped closer to the microphone, my voice steady, clear, and carrying across the entire room without a single tremor of fear.
“I am not related to Vance Capital,” I spoke clearly into the mic, meeting the glare of a front-row Bloomberg reporter head-on. “And I did not orchestrate a coup. I simply refused to be a casualty of people who believed their wealth and pedigree placed them above basic human decency. To anyone who thinks power protects cruelty: your time is up.”
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The flashbulbs flashed faster. The silence that followed my words was absolute, heavy, and profound.
Backstage, watching the live broadcast on a monitor in a dingy Brooklyn diner, Liam dropped his coffee mug. It shattered against the linoleum floor, staining his worn shoes dark brown, while Amber stared at the screen with hollow, defeated eyes, realizing they had lost everything.
