Don Bowed To Me Chapter 22
8 PM. The Great Hall at Newport Preparatory Academy.
I step out of the Escalade and walk through the entryway lined with deep red carpet.
The Great Hall is that classic East Coast old-money space. Nineteenth-century domed frescoes. An entire wall of crystal sconces. The Baccarat chandelier at the center is already lit.
A jazz quartet plays in the corner. A champagne tower rises to chest height by the door.
The moment I walk in, a few people recognize my face.
“Isn’t that Hazel Vitale?”
“Why is she here?”
“That dress she’s wearing… is that actually Alaïa?”
“Probably rented. Isn’t she working as a barista in Queens?”
Not a single person connects me to the “Dr. Vitale” printed on the gold-embossed invitation.
In their memory, Hazel Vitale is the failure who couldn’t even get into community college.
She couldn’t possibly be the investor VIP the Draghis had brought in from New York.
The Draghi family’s butler steps up to accept my invitation.
His eyes scan the name. He bows slightly.
“Dr. Vitale. Welcome. Donna Draghi is waiting at the head table.”
He gestures for me to follow.
The head table sits at the very back of the hall. Ivory tablecloth. A massive arrangement of deep red roses at the center.
Handwritten place cards mark each seat.
I scan each name.
Ms. Camilla Draghi
Mrs. Elena Vitale
Ms. Isabella Vitale
Mr. Dante Falconieri
Dr. H. Vitale
My seat is directly across from Camilla.
Most of the guests at the head table are already seated.
Camilla is wearing wine-red Valentino, a Bulgari Serpenti on her wrist.
She’s leaning in, talking to Dante. A shallow smile on her lips.
My mother sits beside her. Eyes rimmed red, wearing that “I never thought I’d get to see you” expression.
Isabella sits on my mother’s other side. Much thinner. Makeup done with care.
The second she sees me approaching, tears fall.
Camilla stands.
The business smile is in place.
“Dr. Vitale, welcome—”
She looks up.
Her smile freezes at the corners for two seconds.
Her eyes dart to the place card that reads “Dr. H. Vitale.”
Then to the Alaïa on my body. Then to the black internal access badge from Marchetti National Defense Subsidiary clipped to the chain of my clutch.
That badge. Fewer than fifteen people hold one on the entire East Coast.
Camilla catches on.
Her smile blooms again. Behind it, that flash of disgust I know so well.
“Hazel!”
She pitches her voice loud enough for the three nearest tables to hear.
“Oh my god, what a coincidence.”
One hand pressed lightly to her chest, striking a pose of pure surprise.
“I had no idea the technical consultant representing Marchetti National Defense Subsidiary was sending was you.”
She bites down hard on the word “you.”
Nearby eyes swivel toward us.
Camilla doesn’t give me a chance to speak. She turns and gestures toward the head table.
“Well isn’t this perfect, your mother and Isabella happen to be here too.”
“Hazel, you haven’t been home in half a year, right? Tonight the family finally gets to sit down together for a meal.”
She smiles sweetly.
“It’s really no trouble at all, Hazel, no need to thank me.”
I look at her.
I sit down calmly in my seat.
“Camilla,” I say. “Long time no see.”
She sits down slowly, that perfect smile still in place.
The whispers at the nearby tables grow louder.
“Dr. Vitale?”
“She’s actually the technical consultant for Marchetti National Defense Subsidiary?”
“That can’t be right. The Draghis must have gotten it wrong. Isn’t she Isabella’s loser sister?”
I pick up the crystal champagne flute in front of me and take a sip.
I meet my mother’s grief-stricken expression and wait for what she’s about to say.