Billion-Dollar Divorce

The weekend breeze carried a cool edge as it brushed past me and Moira Franklin. The moment we stepped into the charity gala's ballroom, the glare from the crystal chandeliers nearly made you squint. Fragrant clothes and glossy hair, glasses clinking—everyone here seemed to be wearing a carefully crafted mask. Moira Franklin linked her arm with mine, wearing a courteous smile as she greeted the entrepreneurs around us one by one. I followed her closely, but my mind was completely detached. For me, these kinds of events were just another day at the office. Before long, the host stepped onto the stage, grabbed the microphone, and cleared his throat. The room fell instantly silent, every eye locked on the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for joining us at tonight's charity gala." The host's voice echoed through the speakers, filling the entire hall. "According to our gala's rules, tonight the person who donates the highest amount will win a private dinner with the heir apparent of City A." As soon as those words were spoken, a wave of whispers broke out among the audience. Some eyes sparkled with anticipation, clearly intrigued by this "heir apparent"; while others wore confused looks, apparently wondering what kind of figure this "heir apparent" actually was. I sneered inwardly, guessing that this so-called "heir apparent of City A" was probably just a gimmick cooked up by the organizer. They just want to use that name to push everyone here into donating like crazy, all to climb the social ladder—in the end, it's just a cash grab. I've seen tricks like this way too many times. I turned to Moira Franklin, ready to tell her my thoughts and warn her not to get hoodwinked by the Organizer—throwing that money around wouldn't do a damn thing for the Company's growth. But before I could say a word, Moira's assistant, Danny Wallace, came rushing over. Danny's face was lit up with excitement as he leaned in and whispered a few words into Moira's ear. Moira Franklin's eyes suddenly lit up, and the smile at the corner of her mouth became even more pronounced. Without hesitation, Danny Wallace strode onto the stage and grabbed the microphone from the host. He cleared his throat and announced loudly, "Everyone, on behalf of the Franklin Group, I'm proud to declare that tonight we're donating thirty million!" "Thirty million?" "OMG, the Franklin Group is really laying it on thick!" "They're seriously trying to buddy up to that heir apparent, huh?" Danny's words hit the banquet hall like a thunderclap, setting it buzzing. Everyone was stunned, whispering among themselves, their eyes locked firmly on me and Moira Franklin. I was speechless too—never expected Moira to have Danny Wallace donate that much. Thirty million isn't pocket change, all just to have dinner with some so-called "heir apparent" whose legitimacy no one can confirm? This is absolutely absurd.