Chapter 15
The gala was in six hours, and Izzy's dress didn't fit.
"I told you to try it on last week," Sophie said, tugging at the zipper that wouldn't budge past Izzy's ribcage.
"I've been slightly busy preventing corporate espionage and emotional blackmail." Izzy sucked in her breath. "Try again."
Sophie yanked. The zipper moved half an inch. "We need a backup dress."
"There's no time for a backup dress."
"Then we need a miracle."
Izzy's phone buzzed. A text from Alex: *Julian's at the venue. Says Vivienne showed up.*
"Damn it." Izzy grabbed her jeans. "Sophie, find me something, anything, that fits. I have to go."
She was out the door in ninety seconds.
The Plaza ballroom was organized chaos. Florists arranged centerpieces, caterers set up serving stations, and Julian Blackwood stood near the stage, arms crossed, staring down Vivienne Dane.
"You need to leave," Julian said.
"I have every right to be here. I'm honoring my sister's memory."
"You're violating the agreement you signed twelve hours ago."
Alex appeared from behind a column, with Izzy right behind him. "Vivienne. What part of 'no contact' was unclear?"
Vivienne turned, and Izzy saw something desperate in her eyes. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just wanted to see it. One last time. The gala Lila loved."
"You forfeited that right when you signed the confession," Alex said.
"That confession is sealed. No one will ever see it."
"As long as you honor the terms. Which you're currently violating."
Vivienne's composure cracked. "You're really going to stand up there tonight and tell five hundred people you failed her? You're going to destroy your own reputation to satisfy my wounded pride?"
"I'm going to tell the truth," Alex said. "That I wasn't the husband Lila deserved. That I was absent when she needed me. That I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it through this foundation."
"She would've hated that. The public confession. The drama."
"Probably," Alex agreed. "But it's still the truth."
Vivienne looked at Julian. "And you? You're fine with him rewriting history?"
"I'm fine with him taking responsibility for his actual failures instead of the ones you invented," Julian said. "Now leave before I call security."
Vivienne's eyes glistened. "I loved her too. Everyone forgets that. I loved my sister."
"Then you should've protected her," Izzy said quietly. "Instead of using her."
Vivienne flinched like she'd been slapped. For a moment, she looked lost, broken, young.
Then she straightened her shoulders. "I'll honor the agreement. But Alex, when you're up there tonight, remember something: Lila didn't just need a better husband. She needed a stronger sister. We both failed her."
She walked out without looking back.
Julian exhaled. "That woman is exhausting."
"She's gone," Alex said. "That's what matters."
"Is it?" Julian turned to him. "You're really doing this? The public confession?"
"I am."
"Lila wouldn't want you flagellating yourself in front of strangers."
"Lila's dead. I'm doing this for a living. For everyone who thinks I'm some perfect grieving widower who never made mistakes." Alex's voice was steady. "I want them to know the truth. That I'm human. That I failed. That I'm trying to be better."
Julian studied him for a long moment. "You're different. Since all this started."
"Different how?"
"Present. Like you finally woke up." Julian glanced at Izzy. "I'm guessing that has something to do with her."
Izzy felt her face heat. "I should check on Sophie. Dress emergency."
"What kind of emergency?" Alex asked.
"The kind where it doesn't fit and the gala starts in five hours."
"Take my card," Alex said, pulling out his wallet. "Buy whatever you need."
"I'm not using your money...."
"Izzy. Please. Just this once, let me help."
She took the card.
Three hours later, Izzy stood in front of a mirror at Bergdorf Goodman wearing a dress that cost more than her first car.
It was midnight blue silk, simple but devastating, with a neckline that made Sophie whistle.
"That's the one," Sophie said.
"It's four thousand dollars."
"And you look like you could buy the entire building. Get it."
Izzy turned, watching the fabric move. She barely recognized herself. Two months ago, she'd been serving coffee and dodging her landlord. Now she was about to walk into a gala on the arm of one of New York's wealthiest men, wearing a dress that cost a semester's tuition.
"What am I doing?" she whispered.
"What you've been doing for two months," Sophie said. "Surviving."
"This doesn't feel like survival. This feels like..."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm becoming someone else."
Sophie's expression softened. "You're becoming who you always were. You just couldn't afford the dress before."
The gala started at seven. By six-thirty, the ballroom was packed.
Izzy arrived with Sophie, taking in the scene. Crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and a string quartet playing near the entrance. Every surface gleamed. Every detail was perfect.
"Lila's work," a voice said behind them.
They turned. Julian, in a tuxedo that made him look almost respectable.
"She designed the whole thing," he continued. "Even when she was sick, she'd spend hours planning the centerpieces, choosing the music. This was her night."
"Are you okay being here?" Izzy asked.
"No. But Alex needs backup, and I'm the only family he's got." Julian looked at her. "Well. Almost the only family."
Before Izzy could respond, Alex appeared.
He stopped when he saw her. Just stopped, mid-stride, staring.
"Is it too much?" Izzy asked.
"No. It's..." He seemed to have forgotten how words worked. "You look incredible."
Sophie grinned. "I'll give you two a minute."
She dragged Julian away, leaving Izzy and Alex alone in the crowded room.
"Are you ready for this?" Izzy asked.
"Not even a little." Alex straightened his bow tie. "But that's never stopped me before."
"You don't have to do the confession. We have Vivienne's signed statement. She can't touch you."
"I know. But I need to do it anyway." He took her hand. "For me. Not for Vivienne. Not even for Lila. For me."
The ballroom lights dimmed. A voice over the speakers announced the start of the program.
"Showtime," Alex murmured.
They walked to the stage together.
The next hour was a blur. Alex welcomed the guests, thanked the donors, and introduced the foundation's new initiatives. He was polished, professional, every inch the grieving widower honoring his late wife's legacy.
Then he paused.
"Before we continue, I need to say something personal."
The room went quiet.
"Two years ago, I lost my wife, Lila. Most of you knew her. Many of you loved her. You've been incredibly kind to me in the aftermath, treating me like some devoted husband who lost his soulmate."
He gripped the podium. "But that's not the whole truth. The truth is, I failed Lila. I was so consumed by work, by proving myself, by building this foundation, that I forgot to be present in my own marriage. I missed dinners, canceled trips, and took phone calls during conversations. I thought I was honoring her vision by working harder. But what she needed was a partner who showed up."
Someone in the audience sniffled.
"Lila struggled with depression. I knew that. But instead of being there for her, I assumed the foundation, the charity work, the public appearances would be enough. I thought if we were doing well in the world, that would fix what was broken at home. I was wrong."
Alex's voice cracked. "The night she died, we were arguing. About me missing another dinner, another promise, another moment. I was driving, angry and defensive, not watching the road as carefully as I should have been. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit the passenger side. Lila died instantly."
Izzy felt tears on her face.
"I've spent two years telling myself it wasn't my fault. The drunk driver killed her. That there was nothing I could've done. And legally, that's true. But morally? I failed her long before that night. I wasn't the husband she deserved."
He looked directly at Izzy. "This foundation is my attempt to do better. To be present. To actually help people instead of just appearing to help them. Lila would've wanted that. She would've wanted all of us to learn from her death, to be better partners, better friends, better humans."
The silence was absolute.
"So tonight, as we celebrate Lila's legacy, I'm asking you to remember: charity starts at home. With the people we love. With the promises we keep. By showing up, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."
He stepped back from the podium.
The applause started slowly, then built into a wave that filled the ballroom.
Izzy met Alex at the stairs. He looked exhausted, relieved, and terrified.
"You did it," she whispered.
"I did it."
"How do you feel?"
"Like I can finally breathe."
Then someone screamed.
The ballroom doors burst open. Reporters flooded in, cameras flashing, shouting questions.
At the center of the chaos stood Cameron, holding a microphone.
"Mr. Blackwood!" he yelled. "Is it true your fiancée was paid to date you? That your entire relationship is a fraud designed to rehabilitate your image?"
Alex went rigid.
Cameron smiled at the cameras. "Because I have proof."