Page 13 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow (Eternal Oath Saga #2)

Katherine

The gala feels different tonight. Not just because my heart is thundering in my chest, or because the stakes are so high that every moment feels like a countdown to disaster, or even because the fate of Pinnacle Group—and my career—rests on the razor’s edge of tonight’s success.

No, it’s different because it looks different. The hall, which once glittered with opulence and energy, feels smaller, quieter. The usual flood of sharp black tuxedos and sleek backless dresses is replaced by a modest number now. Tonight, the emptiness is almost deafening.

I glance around at the thinning crowd, my eyes scanning for familiar faces. Frank is here, of course, along with the other board members, and Uncle Lawrence stands with the rest of the family elders, all of them still managing to bring dates. That’s what they do, even in the worst of times—cling to their rituals, show off their partners like they’re trophies. It shouldn’t bother me.

But it does.

It sends an ache straight through my chest, sharp and cold. It’s not because I envy them and it certainly isn’t because I miss Alex—not really. It’s what his memory represents. His betrayal. His manipulation. The way he made me feel things I’ve never allowed myself to feel before, only to pull the rug out from under me. Seeing these couples tonight, smiling and chatting, only reminds me of how stupid I was to believe in him, how ridiculous I must have looked when I smiled and chatted away with him for months.

For weeks, after I found out, I’d sit at my desk long after the workday ended, at the hour we would usually have those late night dinners, staring at my office door as though I could will him to walk through it. Part of me hoped for an explanation, some kind of… I don’t know, reason? Something to make it all make sense. Maybe he’d say it wasn’t him, that he was framed or blackmailed or had some kind of mental break. Anything to justify what he told me that day.

But the cold, undeniable truth? It was him. He played me. Used me. And I let him.

I drag my thoughts back to the present, forcing my focus onto the task at hand. There’s no room for self pity tonight. No room for distractions.

“Ms. Lockhart.”

The voice behind me pulls me out of my spiral. I turn to see the MC standing a few feet away, a clipboard in his hand and an uncertain expression on his face.

“I think you can give your speech now,” he says carefully, hesitating before adding, “I’m not sure if we’ll be expecting any more guests tonight.”

His words land like a weight in my stomach, even though I knew this was coming. The people I called—friends, colleagues, investors—they didn’t show. I’d spent hours this week dialing every number in my phone, reaching out to anyone who might still have some faith in Pinnacle Group, anyone who could be convinced to come tonight. Politicians, business moguls, former allies—hell, even old acquaintances I haven’t spoken to in years.

The responses were lukewarm at best. Most didn’t even bother to hide their doubt, their skepticism dripping from every polite excuse they gave. And honestly, who can blame them. All the business blogs and news media have been talking about the impending bankruptcy of the company, from a pure business perspective, it’s hard to convince anyone to have anything to do with Pinnacle Group now. It felt like begging people to board the Titanic as it was already sinking.

And then there was Alice.

I hated calling her. She’s my best friend, and I’ve always tried to avoid dragging her into things like these. She’s a literal queen, for crying out loud—she has enough responsibilities without me dumping my mess on her.

But desperation makes you do things you hate. I called her anyway, knowing she’d probably say yes because that’s the kind of person she is.

Except she wasn’t available. Some royal guard answered the phone to tell me she was busy with royal duties, it was only then that I remembered that she’d told me months ago she’d be busy during this time. I’d forgotten.]

I glance back at the MC and nod, managing a faint smile. “Thanks,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

He nods politely and turns to head toward the stage. I follow him, each step feeling heavier than the last as I approach the microphone.

The room feels impossibly vast as I climb onto the stage, the scattered guests looking up at me with varying degrees of interest. Some are waiting for a miracle. Others are just here for the spectacle of it all.

The microphone hums softly under my fingertips. My chest tightens. The rows of faces before me seem miles away, their expressions unreadable under the soft glow of the chandeliers. My throat feels dry, but I swallow hard and push past the knot forming there. This isn’t the time to falter.

“Good evening,” I begin, my voice steady, but quieter than I intend. The room doesn’t move—no murmurs, no nods. Just silence.

I adjust my stance slightly, gripping the edge of the podium. “I want to thank each of you for being here tonight. I know the past few months have been… difficult. For all of us. Pinnacle Group has stood tall for decades, weathering countless challenges, and I’m standing here today to assure you that we will stand tall again.”

My voice grows stronger.

“Right now,” I continue, “the headlines paint a grim picture of this company. You’ve all seen them. The talk of bankruptcy, the speculation about our future, the doubts about whether Pinnacle can survive this storm.” I pause, allowing my gaze to sweep across the room. A few eyes meet mine, but most look away, down at their glasses or the tablecloths, as though avoiding my words entirely.

“But I’m here to tell you that Pinnacle Group will survive,” I press on, the urgency in my tone sharpening. “This company was built on resilience. On innovation. On a vision that has driven us forward through every obstacle. And we’re still standing. We’re still here. Tonight, I’m asking you—our partners, our supporters, and our friends—to stand with us. To believe in us, as you always have.”

I glance down at my hands for a moment, steadying my breath. “I know it’s hard to see past the challenges in front of us, but I also know this: Pinnacle Group has faced challenges before. And we’ve overcome them. Not just because of our business strategy or our numbers, but because of the people behind those numbers. Because of you.”

I lean in slightly, my voice softening but still firm. “Right now, we need you. Not just as investors, but as partners who believe in the future we can create together. This isn’t just about weathering the storm. This is about using the storm to rebuild stronger, to reach greater heights. Together, we can do this.”

I allow my final words to settle, my eyes scanning the crowd again for a reaction. Anything. But the silence stretches on, as though my words have been swallowed whole by the room.

No one claps. No one nods. No one even moves in their seats. For a moment, I wonder if they even heard me.

The board members sit with stone-faced indifference, Lawrence’s smug satisfaction barely concealed as he leans back in his chair. Frank, beside him, whispers something to the man on his right, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

I force my gaze away, scanning the rest of the room. A few guests glance awkwardly at each other, some pretending to be engrossed in their drinks or the patterns on the tablecloths. Even the waitstaff stationed at the edges of the hall seem frozen, unsure if they’re supposed to react.

I nod once, curtly, and step back from the microphone. I head toward my seat, my head held high, though inside, my thoughts are a whirlwind of frustration, anger, and doubt.

This was supposed to be the moment to turn it all around. The moment to inspire confidence. But instead, it feels like the final nail in my coffin.

I gulp down the champagne as soon as I take my seat. The bubbly liquid is cold as it slides down my throat, but it doesn’t do anything to dull the heat creeping into my face.

Tomorrow, the board will vote. They’ll replace me as CEO, claiming I wasn’t strong enough to lead them. That I wasn’t good enough to save my father’s legacy. I’ll wake up to headlines calling me a failure, a cautionary tale, the woman who let the Pinnacle empire fall.

The thought makes my stomach churn.

“Hello, Katherine.”

The voice is smooth, pointed, and far too familiar. My shoulders stiffen instinctively as I hear it, pulling me from the spiraling mess in my head.

I turn, my eyes lifting to meet the source of the voice. I don’t know who I’m hoping to see, but when I realize who it is, a sigh escapes me before I can stop it.

“Good evening, Chris Winter,” I say, my tone flat, making no effort to conceal the disappointment lacing my words.

Chris stands there, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his perfectly tailored suit catching the soft glint of the chandeliers above. He glances around the hall, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t seem like your rallying cry worked,” he says, his voice low and smug, every word carrying that irritating undertone of condescension he’s mastered so well.

I don’t respond. Not because I don’t have a snarky comeback ready—oh, I do—but because I don’t have the energy to spar with him right now. Instead, I turn back to the emptying hall, staring blankly at nothing, letting the silence between us stretch.

Chris, of course, doesn’t take the hint. He pulls out the chair beside me and slides into it. He leans in, close enough that I can feel the edge of his presence brushing against me.

“You should be happy I’m here,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “I’m the guy who just might save Pinnacle Group from going bankrupt.”

I almost roll my eyes, but his words tug at something in me. A flicker of curiosity. A whisper of hope. Just enough to make me bite.

“Is that so?” I ask, not even trying to mask the skepticism in my voice.

“Yes,” he says smoothly, leaning back in his chair like this is all some casual business meeting. “You’re well aware the Winter family has been behind Pinnacle Group for decades.”

“And the Winters were the first to cut their losses and run at the first sign of trouble when this situation began,” I shoot back, my tone cool and dismissive.

His smile falters for a fraction of a second before he recovers, sighing lightly as if I’m the one being difficult here. “I’m a businessman, Katherine. I have a board and investors to answer to, just like you do. And unlike you, I don’t intend to disappoint them.”

His words land like a slap, the thinly veiled insult making my jaw tighten. He notices and that infuriating smirk returns to his face, as if he enjoys seeing me bristle.

“However,” he says, leaning forward now, his tone turning to something heavier, “I’m here to tell you that I will save your company. I’ll give Pinnacle Group the investment it needs to stay afloat.”

A tiny spark of hope ignites somewhere deep inside me. Could this actually be real? Relief brushes against the edges of my thoughts, but I force it back, clamping down on it before it can take root.

This is Chris Winter. It’s never that simple.

I clasp my hands together on the table, finally turning to face him fully.. “What do you want, Chris?”

His smirk widens, like he’s been waiting for me to ask that exact question. “What?” he says, feigning innocence. “Is it beyond the realm of possibility that I’m doing this as a nice gesture? A show of faith. After all, our companies have had a great working relationship for decades.”

I narrow my eyes. “Cut the bullshit, Chris.” My voice hardens, my patience wearing thin. “What do you want?”

He sighs, almost dramatically, then his expression changes slightly, the playful smugness giving way to something colder. More calculated.

“The Winters will give Pinnacle Group the investment it urgently needs to avoid bankruptcy… on the condition…” He pauses, his eyes locked on mine, a glint of something unreadable passing through them before his lips curve into a faint smile.

“That you marry me, Katherine.”

If the situation wasn’t so dire, I would’ve laughed. I almost do—a small, bitter laugh rising up in my throat—but instead, it comes out as a scoff. I shake my head, eyes fixed on nothing in particular as I turn away from him again.

Predictable.

Of course, Chris Winter would wait until my darkest hour to pull something like this. It’s so… on brand for him.

But he isn’t finished. He leans in closer, invading my personal space like he’s entitled to it, his voice is more insistent now. “Come on, Katherine, don’t be stupid. You’re on the verge of losing everything. Your company goes bankrupt, and you won’t even be around to see how they attempt to salvage the wreckage, because your board will kick you out faster than you can blink.” He pauses, letting his words settle for a beat, as if he’s delivering some profound truth.

I stay quiet, my fingers tightening ever so slightly against the edge of the table.

Chris exhales, his tone turning smooth again, the voice of a man who thinks he’s sealing the deal. “I’m offering you an opportunity to save your company. To make it better than it’s ever been. Think about it—our families’ companies, united under my leadership. Together, we’d take Pinnacle Group to heights it’s never even dreamed of.”

The words hit me like a slow, icy wave, and for a second, I can only stare at him, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. He’s not just proposing marriage. He’s proposing absorbing Pinnacle Group into his company. My father’s legacy, reduced to a footnote in Chris Winter’s empire.

It’s laughable. Insulting. The heat rises in my chest before I can stop it, burning away any iota of curiosity or hope that might’ve lingered in the corners of my mind.

“You can go to hell with your offer, Chris.” I say, sharp and clipped, and I advert me eyes from his after I say it.

He doesn’t take it well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His voice snaps, louder now, his cool facade cracking. “Are you that stupid? Do you not see what’s happening here? You don’t have much of a choice, Katherine! You’ve already proven you can’t lead a company—you’ve run it straight into the ground.”

My jaw tightens, but I don’t interrupt him.

“I’m offering you a way out of this mess. A chance to save your reputation! You’ll have a husband who knows how to actually run a business, and you’ll even get praised for making the smart decision to save Pinnacle Group.” His voice is rising now, drawing the attention of the few scattered guests still left in the hall. A couple of curious glances dart our way, but Chris doesn’t seem to care.

“You should be thanking me for this,” he growls, his words dripping with arrogance. “You should be showering me with gratitude, because take a look around, Katherine. I’m the only one here trying to help you when no one else would.”

Help. That’s what he’s calling this?

And even if I were to entertain this ridiculous proposition, what’s the point? I’d sacrifice everything—my freedom, my dignity—only to watch Pinnacle Group disappear, devoured and reshaped into something unrecognizable under his control.

That will never happen.

I turn to him, my gaze hard and unflinching. “The answer is no, Chris.”

The color rises in his face, his expression twisting with frustration. “Stop being so stubborn!” he barks, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. “Stop being so stupid! You’re throwing away the one chance you have to—”

“I’ll make the investment needed to avoid bankruptcy.”

The voice cuts through the room like a whip, calm but commanding, reverberating through the speakers. Chris freezes mid rant, his head snapping toward the stage. My heart skips, the sudden interruption yanking me from the moment.

The energy in the entire hall changes, murmurs rippling through the remaining guests as all eyes turn toward the stage. Lawrence and the elders, Frank and the rest of the board. Everyone turns to the speaker.

My own gaze follows, and when I see the man standing behind the microphone, my breath catches.

What?!

My mind stumbles, trying to process what I’m seeing.

“Pinnacle Group isn’t going bankrupt,” the voice says again, steady and assured. “I won’t allow it. I’ll make the investment needed and execute a plan to put the company back on track.”

Chris bolts to his feet, anger practically radiating off him. “Who the hell are you?!” he yells, his voice booming through the hall.

There’s a brief tap on the microphone, a faint metallic sound cutting through the tension, and then the man speaks again, his tone cool and authoritative. “Let’s just say I’m a businessman based in Europe.”

He pauses,, his gaze scanning the room as he finishes, “And my name…” He lets the moment stretch.

“…is Alex Valkov.”